


The Claiming Of Sam and Dean

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dubious Consent, Incest, Lactation Kink, M/M, Mpreg, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 18:14:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 82,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16142765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: So, this was written for a prompt from somewhere that basically looked like this.Teenage Dean is pregnant. The father isn't in his life. John Winchester is disappointed at first, but supports Dean's decision to keep the baby. Later, Dean's body is developing with the pregnancy and Dean is thrown off by this, especially when he starts to lactate. John offers comfort, but can't stop himself from from taking some of Dean's delicious milk. This calms Dean down ultimately. Unknown to either of them, Sam sees the whole scene and soon, he wants to be pregnant too, begging John to breed him.Of course, I mostly wanted to write Mpreg smut where John claims both his boys.Warnings for incest and underage.





	The Claiming Of Sam and Dean

It started, like a lot of ill considered things did, at the bar, sometime just before last call. There'd been this cute guy that had gotten a lot cuter the more beer Dean had had. He was blond, very blond, like some Scandinavian sex god. Even though it was a school night and he should have gotten back to Sam at the hotel a lot sooner, Dean had ended up going back to the guy's hotel room with him. Then there turned out to be this guy's brother there. Twin brother, and Dean had been all, hot damn, this is my lucky day and it'd been a really fun next couple of hours. A way too much fun couple of hours. 

And while yes, there had been condoms involved, one of them had broken and after that, they just hadn't bothered with them, because it'd been too late anyway. Dean had fully intended to get himself morning after pills, but in this backwater state and even worse little town, they'd been kept behind the pharmacy counter and available to those under eighteen only with a doctor's prescription. And the only pharmacy in town had one ancient, fundamentalist pharmacist who knew damn well that Dean was only sixteen and his fake ID hadn't done Dean a damn bit of good. Dean had thought about trying to get a doctor's appointment and a prescription, but then there was the matter of paying for it and Dad having to know, so Dean had just hoped luck was on his side and that things would work out. 

By the time they'd moved on to the next state and town, where Dean could have shop lifted all the morning after pills he wanted right off the shelf, it was too late and his monthly time hadn't come, so it had been pregnancy tests he'd shoplifted instead. Which was how he had come to be in this situation, with one plastic stick clutched in his hand, the other two he'd taken left behind in the bathroom. Sam had long gone to school, but Dean had stayed home, upset stomach that was, without a doubt, morning sickness. Dean had been thinking about this moment pretty much without stop ever since he hadn't been able to get his hands on those morning after pills. The tests were just to confirm that which he'd been pretty sure of for a few weeks already. He'd already decided what he wanted to do. It was just a matter of getting Dad on board for it. Or just surviving telling Dad.

John Winchester came back to the room at about eleven, pile of books in his arms, obviously ready to do some research. He dropped the books on the table by the door when he saw Dean sitting there on the bed.

"Dean, I expected you to be in school today. Too much absenteeism will attract the attention of the authorities," John said. "I know you hate school, but it's part of your responsibilities."

"Sir, we need to talk," Dean said. "I wanted to do it when Sam wasn't here, because he doesn't need to hear what you're probably going to call me next. I was really stupid and I compounded my stupid by not wanting to tell you I needed help." 

Then Dean held out the positive pregnancy test to his father. It took just a second for him to realize what it was, then his face fell, but surprisingly, he didn't yell, didn't shout. He just sat down on the end of the bed next to Dean and said, disappointment in his voice. "I really thought you were smarter than this, Dean," he said. "I really thought I told you enough so we'd never be having this conversation. Condoms. Every time. Without fail. Morning after pill if they fail."

"I did. We used condoms, but one of them broke, and we were in Boone Grove, Oklahoma and there was just the one pharmacy and they wouldn't sell me the pills. And I didn't think I could ask you for help, and you were gone hunting that rawhead anyway. It was too late once you'd gotten back."

"If I'd known, if you'd called me, I would have come home. I only want what's best for you two. I might have shouted at you, but you would have gotten the pills in time. I never wanted you to feel like we couldn't talk about these things," John said, and he wrapped an arm around Dean's shoulder. 

"You're not angry?" Dean asked, almost shocked at his father's loving gesture. He'd expected that parts of him might be scattered over several different states already, at least metaphorically. 

"Hell, yes, I'm angry," John said. "But it's too late for it to do a damn bit of good. You're pregnant whether I scream my head off at you or not and I'm just too tired to do that. The father, who is it? Anyone we know?"

"It's either a guy named Tim or his twin brother Jim. I met them at that bar just off the highway near Boone Grove. They were just passing through, gone the next morning. Never saw them again."

"Wait, Tim and Jim Claussen? Both of them?" John asked, gritting his teeth. He indicated a height just slightly taller than himself and said, "So tall? Blond hair, blue eyes, the both of them. Very Nordic looking. Tim's got this scar through his left eyebrow, hair doesn't grow in it, Jim's got a crooked nose, broken, never properly set?"

"Yeah, how'd you know what they looked like?" Dean asked, startled. That was them exactly. 

"They're hunters, specialize in werewolves. I know them through Caleb. Did they hurt you in any way?" Dad said, then he stood up, hand already reaching for his weapon. There was no doubt in Dean's mind that Dad was planning to head out now and find them, maybe kill them. "They're nearly thirty. Way too old to be bedding my teenage son."

"Dad! No! I told them I was twenty-one and it was just the one night. And it was me that picked up them. Look, it's embarrassing enough. I just want to forget about them, okay? They're just a couple of hours in a grungy hotel room near a bar, near a highway in a nowhere town. I don't want either of them to know. I don't want them coming around and I sure as hell don't want you shooting them because you think they impugned my honor or raped me or whatever. Because they totally did not rape me. I had a good time, even if I'm paying for it now."

John sat down on the bed beside Dean again, gave Dean a strange look, but he laid a hand gently on Dean's lower abdomen. "Promise me one thing," he asked Dean. "Never think of this as a punishment. It may be a consequence of your actions, but that's different than a punishment. So, have you thought about what's next? Do we need to move on to a state where it's easier to get an abortion?"

"No!" 

Dean knew that choice wasn't what he wanted but he hadn't realized just how strongly he felt about it. "I mean, no, I want to keep this baby. I know it's stupid of me to want this, because it's hard to raise a kid on the road, in motel rooms. I know I'm too young and that I should be ashamed because I'm having a baby when I'm unclaimed and unmarried. I know no one is going to claim me when I've been pregnant with another man's baby. But none of that seems to matter. I'm kind of excited even. I want to have this baby pretty bad. I was only scared that you'd hate me for it. That you'd abandon me because of it."

"Dean, I would never do that. Nothing you could do would make me to that. For the rest, we'll manage," John said. He paused a long while, as if thinking over something he hadn't really considered before. Then he smiled slightly and said, "I don't think you'll need to raise your baby on the road. I've kept up the hunting because I didn't have a good reason to stop, but ever since I found the vamp that turned your mother and killed him and I...put her to rest, I've been tired. I wanted to stop, and now there's a reason. Are you sure you don't want me to track down the Claussen twins? Make the one who's the daddy do right by you?"

"No," Dean said, sure of this. "They were a good time but I can't see spending the rest of my life with one or the other of them. They're not who I pictured at all."

Dean had always hoped one day he run across someone enough like his father, driven and intense, yet devoted to family, dark and handsome, but not at all pretty, like the Claussen twins were. Truth was, Dean had always been kind of in love with his dad ever since he was a little boy. When he'd been little, it'd just been hero worship, but as he'd grown, it hadn't gone away. He always hoped when the right Alpha came along, he'd be a lot like Dad. 

John pulled him close for a hug, pressing Dean against his chest, then kissed him on the top of his head. Dean's heart beat a little faster as he drew in deep whiffs of his father's scent. The smell of old books overlaid the usual scent today, but Dean could still sense the gun oil, the sweat and the musky scent that was his father's most basic odor. Dean relaxed against the broad, muscular chest, allowing himself to rest for a moment, and wonder why he'd ever thought he had to worry. 

"This'll be good for us," John said. "You know, I always wanted a bigger family. I wanted more kids. Your mother and I were trying to get her pregnant again already when she was taken from us. It'll be so nice, having a baby around again, even if he's my grandson, not my son."

"Could be a girl," Dean said. 

"Either one is fine with me. Are you sure you're ready for this, Dean? There will be a lot of changes for you."

"Baby, yeah, I know. But I did a pretty good job, helping you raise Sam, I think."

"You did. I've always been proud of you for that. But that's not what I'm talking about. Your body, Dean, it's going to change on you, even more. Up until now, being an Omega for you hasn't probably meant much more than a different way to have sex than most guys, but it will have to change, to accommodate the baby."

"I know, boobs and hormones. I think I'm ready and I really want this baby."

Dean couldn't have known how much he didn't know and how much things really would change, but he'd never regret his choice.

 

***

The hunting didn't stop right away. Bobby called, they were nearby, could John just go and help this guy out with a vamp nest. Then there was a werewolf in Montana and a rawhead in Idaho, and then not far away, a vengeful spirit to salt and burn. The rules had changed though. John wouldn't let Dean help out on the hunts, even a little. John made him stay at the hotel, behind the salt lines, with Sam. Too many things were especially tempted by a pregnant person and the weak, but precious light of a freshly minted soul. He didn't leave his boys alone overnight any more. John kept them close and he was always back, by dawn at the latest. After the call from Bobby, after those vamps were cleared out, John didn't take on any more vampire hunts, or hunt anything with serious juice. 

They weren't just traveling aimlessly, either. They were looking for a place to stay. They were checking out the community, the schools, local laws. John was even sort of looking for work, not certain what he wanted for a job, hoping for something better than being a mechanic. It'd been hard to raise two on mechanic's wages and probably wouldn't be easier now. 

In Utah, on the way out of the state, after a salt and burn, the Impala broke down, in a serious way. It broke an axle when they hit a really bad pot hole in the country lane they were taking and thankfully, they weren't too far out of Mount Pleasant, the small town they'd just passed, so they could walk back and get a tow truck. The only garage in the town was one of those small operations, normally just two men working it, but now it was just the owner, an older guy, shriveled from the years. He looked at their Impala regretfully, then at the whole parking lot full of cars surrounding the garage, and he said, sounding tired, "I like your car, love to get my hands on it, but it'll take a week before I can even look at it. I'm so backed up. I've made promises to people, can't put you in line ahead of them. It's normally busy, but ever since my brother Joe up and moved to Salt Lake, and I got sick, I just can't keep up like I used to."

"Did you have a spare bay in your garage? Could I get the parts through you?" John said. "I could fix it myself if I had the space, tools and parts. We don't have the money for a whole week in a hotel here."

"You're a mechanic?"

"Before I started traveling for work." John named the places he'd worked, what he could do. The man shook his head in time to John's talk, clearly liking the sound of what John was saying.

"Tell you what, there's a junk yard, other side of town. You can probably find the parts you need for your Impala. I'll let you use Joe's tools, he left them, didn't want to be an mechanic no more. I like the way you fix up your car, you've got a job, helping me with all of this. You can earn some money. There's always work, as you can see, more than I can handle. Seems like with that pretty little pregnant wife of yours, you ought to settle down for a while. He looks about ready to burst right here."

"Dean isn't nearly as far along as he looks. He's just in the middle of his second trimester," John said, wondering why he didn't feel any urge to correct the shop owner regarding the kind of relationship he had with Dean. "But it would probably do him some good to have a stable home for a while. We've been looking for the right place to settle down."

Actually, this place seemed like the sort of place John had been looking for. Small, but not too small. Big enough to have its own schools, but not so big that you wouldn't get to know everyone in town eventually. It had tree lined streets and a small downtown area and a couple of parks that John had seen. It was in easy driving distance of Salt Lake City, if they needed to get to the city for something, but not so close that it might one day find itself becoming a suburb. 

"This is a fine place to raise a family. I raised mine here once. They're gone, moved off, Jody to a career with the Marines, Darren to college."

"Are folks in this town mostly Mormon? My family isn't," John asked, his last worry about this town. Not that he had prejudice against any particular religion, but in his experience, the Mormons, though not always, could be a little insular, especially in small towns.

"Most folks ended up here aren't. We're a little drop of non-LDS in a sea of it. Most of the towns around here are pretty solid latter day. The few families here that are latter day, they mostly church in the surrounding towns. Look, I'm going to call my sister Verna for you. She owns some places around town, rents them out. She can set you up whether you need a place for the week or until you're ready to buy your own."

John looked over at his two boys, standing out of the way, at the corner of the lot, talking to each other, probably teasing each other, if he knew them. Sammy was wearing Dean's coat, while Dean stood by in his shirt sleeves, shivering in the nippy, October wind. He had his arms wrapped around his body. He wasn't unhappy though. He was smiling as he talked to Sam. Dean was all long legged coltish grace, other than the huge belly sticking out in front of him. Even that followed a graceful curve, clearly outlined by the clinging t-shirt he wore under the flannel shirt that would no longer button up the front. He wore a pair of John's biggest jeans, slung really low on his hips, but soon enough, those wouldn't work either. They'd have to get the boy maternity clothes as soon they could. Maternity clothes cost money. You couldn't just find them at a thrift shop, at least not ones suited to a pregnant Omega. He really needed to get them settled and get a proper job. 

"I'm John Winchester, by the way," John said, holding out his hand. The shop owner took it and shook it. "That's Dean and Dean's brother Sam."

"Vern Stamos. Nice to meet you and your family, John."

"Dean isn't my wife, by the way. We're not married," John said, thinking maybe he should clear that up, before it was too late.

"That's okay. Utah is a claiming state. Public claiming, though they recognize marriage proper too. Most folks call it marriage whether you go to church, to the judge or to screw in a public square in front of God and forty witnesses."

John's stomach clenched at the thought of taking Dean in public like that. His cock twitched in his pants, even though a second ago, sex hadn't even been on his mind. Somehow, it was worse that Vern had so breezily and cheerfully assumed that John was the kind of Alpha that would publicly claim an Omega.But the moment had passed where he could make the correction without making it seem even worse than that.

John got the boys settled in before he even started in on the Impala. Verna turned out to be overstuffed in the same amount that her brother Vern had been shriveled up, but she was efficient and kind, settling them in a two bedroom cabin she owned just outside of town, still walking distance to town center. 

"Now, Vern says you might be staying, so this is just for now," she'd said, as she showed them the place. It was a little worn out, the pattern on the linoleum long gone from the path between the sink and stove, but it was clean, no signs of mice or roaches when John checked the kitchen. There was a living room with a plaid sofa and a couple of recliners, and a TV set that Verna claimed was hooked up to basic cable. He'd settled his boys into worse than this without a second thought. 

"I've got a four bedroom house on Joy Street that'll be opening up in a month or two, just as soon as the Pettigrews buy their own place. That's only four blocks from Vern's garage. I hope this place will do you for now. It's my only place available right now that comes furnished. Vern says you all don't have much to your name."

"No ma'am," John had said. "It'll do fine for now."

"I can definitely get you into someplace bigger by the time that baby comes along," she promised. 

Once the boys were settled in the house and Verna had offered to pick them up a few groceries even, John applied himself to the issue of fixing his car. He did find the right axle at the junk yard and few good other parts as well. He didn't get the car even half finished by the end of the day, but Vern keep watching him work, and he'd been formally offered a job before he left for the night. At seemed that the Winchesters were staying in Mount Pleasant, at least for a while. 

Later that night, John stripped down to his shorts and a t-shirt and climbed between the covers of a strange bed yet again. They were all strange beds, really, had been every night since the night his wife was stolen right out from the house he'd always thought to be safe. Even when they stayed for a while, for a month, a little longer, the bed still remained strange to him, someplace he knew he'd be sleeping just temporarily. They might be staying here longer though, he thought as he laid his head on pillows that were harder than he liked, and flatter. This bed might become his bed, at least for a couple months. He allowed himself to think about a life lived in this town with his sons and the new baby coming soon. Sam could go to school, one school, not a sequence of them. Dean would have a stable place to raise his baby. They were a family, they always had been, but now they could be a family with a home, a place to call their own. 

Dean slipped into the bedroom as John had nearly drifted asleep and crawled into the bed and John's arms as John came to full wakefulness. He'd been crying, again, still was. It was far from the first time a tearful and hormonal Dean had come seeking comfort, and it would probably not be the last. It wasn't every night, but it was many nights and it usually happened around midnight. John gathered his boy into his arms and let him cry, saying things like, "Hey, you're doing so good, Deano. You're growing this baby like a champ. It's okay. You're going to be such a great mom."

"I'm sorry," Dean said, eventually, when the worst of the sobs had died down. "I just don't feel like me any more. You know, I used to need to shave. I haven't had to shave in over a month now."

John touched his son on the jawline, remembering teaching Dean to shave the day, not long ago, when he'd realized he could see a smudge of a mustache over his pink lips and on his chin. John felt nothing now, just a little peach fuzz. His skin was smoother than John could ever remember. "It's just the hormonal changes, Dean," John said. "You'll probably get your stubble back once the baby is born and things settle down."

"Are these tits going to go away too when I'm done?" Dean asked. "Because I am not happy about them. I know I said it was okay, but they're too big. They're awkward and I hate them."

They weren't that big, really, not even a c cup, but the nipple had grown along with them, from tiny little barely existent nubbin to pencil eraser size. The nipples and aureola had darkened too and were pretty visible through white t-shirts. Actually, Dean had all of the classic pregnancy symptoms, from a very pronounced linea nigra up and down his belly, to the way his freckles seemed to have darkened, clumped and gathered on his cheeks, giving him the classic 'mask of pregnancy'. 

"No, I hate to say it, but they probably won't go away," John said. "They might get a bit smaller, but they won't go away. We've talked about this, what the doctor told you. There's going to be some permanent changes to your body because of the pregnancy."

"I just can't deal. They're huge, feel them," Dean said, then he grabbed John's hand and put it right on top of the tit in question. It was firm, the skin soft, the nipple hard. It fit right into the palm of John's hand as if it belonged there and it took all of his self control not to squeeze it gently, then bend his head to the nipple and lick and taste it. 

This was something that they hadn't really talked about, something that had to stop. Boundaries were shifting between him and Dean ever since Dean had started coming to his bed, looking for comfort when he was having one of his hormonal surges. That's what they were, the source of the tears. John had even made Dean consult a doctor about them, and that's the answer they'd gotten. It was pretty much assumed that an Omega's first pregnancy would make them a nervous wreck.

He should have pushed Dean out his bed, made him go back to the room he was sharing with Sam. He should have, at the very least, let got of his son's breast. He didn't though. He just let his hand rest there. Then he said, "You know, Vern assumed you were my mate. He called you my pretty, little wife. I didn't correct him. Yet."

"Verna said the same thing. She called you my husband. I didn't correct her, either," Dean said. "I wanted her to think that."

"It's wrong, Dean. You're my son, not my wife," John said.

"You might sound more convincing if your hand wasn't still on my tit," Dean said, but he didn't move away, didn't stop John from continuing to touch. "You know, it'd make things a lot easier for me if people did think I was your wife. They wouldn't look at me and think bad things about me being an unmarried pregnant Omega. A lot of Omegas get claimed as young as me by older Alphas than you."

"Okay," John said. He was tired and he couldn't tell Dean no to anything right now. He felt like he couldn't fight this thing, whatever it was, that was happening between him and Dean. 

"Okay what?"

"Okay, I'll pretend to be your husband. I agree. You'll have it a lot easier if people think you're my young wife than my unmarried son. We'll talk about it more tomorrow. For now, let's go to sleep, because your husband has to get up first thing, for a regular, paying job, for the first time in over a decade."

He shifted them around, so they were both on their sides and he spooned up behind Dean. He lost contact with the breast as they were moving around, but his hand seemed to gravitate back there just as soon as they were settled in, working its way up Dean's t-shirt, past his smooth, rounded belly, back to that perfectly sized, perfectly beautiful little tit. His dick hardened as he came into contact with Dean's ass, but he was tired and more than that, he could mostly control himself. Mostly, though, he was tired, and he was asleep before too many minutes more.

John woke with Dean still spooned against him as the clock radio blared some country music song at him. He had a huge case of morning wood, but he certainly had no time. He was due at the garage in less than forty-five minutes, because it had taken a while for the radio to wake him. He hadn't slept this soundly in years. He felt rested. He felt good, better than good. Certainly, he felt far better than he should have after sleeping with his son in his bed. After sleeping with his pregnant son's breast in his hand. Dean rolled around and smiled at him before reaching over him to turn the radio off. 

"Hey, I've got to get going," John said. "The garage is probably a twenty minute walk. I don't want to be late on my first day. Can you see about getting Sammy registered for school? Use his Sam Campbell identity. And look and see about working on your GED. We're probably going to be here for a while, maybe even staying."

"Yeah, I'll get it taken care of," Dean said. "So, was I a Campbell, before I married you? I just want to get my story straight. Seeing as we might be staying."

It took just a few minutes to pull on a clean work shirt, pants and his work boots, then run a comb over his head. Downstairs, Dean already had roused Sam, and gotten Sam and himself ready. There were two different boxes of cereal out on the table, including the Lucky Charms that both Sam and Dean liked. Dean was opening different cabinets, looking through various kitchen supplies, trying to find bowls. He grabbed three when he found them. 

"Sam," John said as they were sitting in front of their morning bowls of cereal. "There's something we need to talk about before we get set up in this town. You know how hard your brother has had it as an unmarried, pregnant Omega, right?"

"Sure," Sam said. He was still kind of grumpily only half awake. His hair, too long again already, was messed up, sticking up on one side. Even as John thought this, Dean automatically reached out to smooth Sam's hair down. "They say all kinds of horrible things about him, and when they're not saying them, I can tell when they're thinking them."

"We thought. We've decided that it would be easier on him if people thought he was married to me. It's just an act, like how sometimes, when we were hunting, I'd have to pose as a priest or a police officer. We're going to pretend like I'm Dean's husband, not his father. You'll be Dean's brother while we're here. We're going to enroll you in school as Sam Campbell again."

"So I won't be your son?"

"Things aren't going to be any different here at home. I'm still your father, still Dean's father. This is just to help us fit in better in the community, okay? Can I count on you to keep our cover?"

"Yeah. It's kind of weird, but I don't want people saying those awful things about Dean any more."

Later, after a day's work, as he was washing his hands, trying his best to get them clean, scrub away those stubborn rings of grease from under his fingernails, Vern approached him with an envelope full of twenties. 

"You did real fine work today, son," Vern said, handing him the open envelope. "I'm closer to caught up than I ever thought I'd be in one day. Consider this an advance on your week's wages."

"You don't have to do this, Vern," John said. There was also a small key ring in the envelope, with keys to a Ford. Probably the shop's loaner LTD. They'd worked all day on getting caught up with Vern's waiting clients and made good progress on it, but there hadn't been time to get to the Impala today and it still waited a lot of the finishing touches to the repair. It was, technically, rolling again, but there was a lot he'd want to do to it before he'd take it out on the highway again.

"Verna says your boys moved a bag each of clothing and nothing else into your new place. She says your wife hasn't even got any maternity clothes, just some t-shirts he's about fit to bust out of. You take that money and you take the LTD and drive up to the city tonight and get him what he needs. Don't come in until noon tomorrow. It's my one late night. We'll be open until eight."

Three hours later, John was sitting in the chair of some mall shop called Omega and Babe, Sam scowling from the other chair, trying to do homework on his lap. Dean was having a hard time of it, trying to find some clothes that would work for him. Not only was he used to wearing Beta and Alpha male style clothes, he was already taller than most Omegas ever got, and broader through the shoulders. Even though John always thought of Dean as delicate, fine boned, apparently, he was a Hulk compared to the average Omega. Dean also didn't think much of the style and color choices available to them. 

Dean was talking to the clerk who was trying to help him, "Are you sure you don't have any t-shirts that aren't so low cut? I'm trying to hide these, not emphasize them. I have freaking cleavage, for God's sake."

"Why don't you just show your husband and see what he thinks?" the clerk suggested. 

Omega clothing was not the same as women's clothing, thought it was definitely more feminine than the men's clothing Dean was used to wearing. The shop assistant had put Dean into a gray v-necked t-shirt that did, indeed, show some cleavage, just a hint of it. Underneath Dean's breasts, his belly swelled out, a perfect curve that seemed to have grown even since last week. Somehow, she'd found a pair of maternity jeans that fit him and weren't just riding low under his belly. They were long enough for his long legs. They were cut differently from men's jeans, not just the maternity aspect, but they were fitted to Dean's ass, hips and thighs in a way he'd never worn jeans before. Over the t-shirt, one of those western style shirts with the pearl snaps, in a subtle dark blue floral print. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. 

He looked very pretty, very much like a proper Omega for the first time in his life. John found himself wondering for the first time if he'd made a mistake by bringing up his two Omega boys almost as if they were Betas, just ordinary boys. It'd been a lot easier on the road, there'd been a lot less struggles, an lot fewer questions. But Dean, now dressed in clothes that captured the exact spot where he sat on the spectrum of gender and sex, was just gorgeous and somehow seemed to be exactly the sort of person he was supposed to be. More himself than he'd ever been before.

"What do you think, Sir?" the shop assistant asked. "He looks lovely, doesn't he? Should I ring the items up?"

John nodded, then added, "If you've got them, another pair of jeans just like those, and about five more of those t-shirts. I particularly like the t-shirt on him. Dean can pick the colors."

Dean flushed when he realized what John had said and done. Still, if they were going to be passing as a married pair, picking out clothing for him was one of the things an Alpha would do for his Omega. As they were walking out of the mall with the bags of Dean's. new clothing, they walked past a store called Omegamania, a store meant for the younger, teenage Omega. John stopped in front of it, looking through the plate glass to the sleek displays inside. 

"Sam?" John asked. "Did you want to get some new clothes? Not a lot, but you could pick out a few new things. I want you to fit in at your new school. We might be here a while."

"Really? Here?" Sam asked, in obvious disbelief.

"This is the place you're always begging me to take you shopping, right?"

"Yeah, but you don't let me wear clothes like these. They aren't regular boy clothes."

"An Omega is just as much a regular boy as a Beta," John said. "But it's time we stopped denying what you are. You should start dressing how you feel looks right for you. I've treated you like a Beta for far too long, but you're not."

Left to his own devices, Sam picked out a shirt much like the one Dean had gotten, but with a very pale blue on white pattern and a pair of jeans, that like Dean's new jeans, were cut in ways that a Beta or Alpha male would never wear his jeans. Watching Sam walk around in his new jeans, John had the odd, sudden thought that the boy really had a pair of baby birthing hips, that he'd make a really good child bearer some day. John put that out of his mind. It was bad enough that his older son was now somehow, his mate, his wife.

So, they settled into the small Utah town. The Stamoses continued to be a lot nicer than they should have. Verna refused to collect her first month's rent from them, and brought them by another bag of groceries instead as well as a bag of old baby stuff. Vern paid him far more than he would have gotten elsewhere and called him indispensable. And for the first time, their one month anniversary at some place passed and didn't leave him with itchy feet and an urge to blow out of town just as fast as he could. 

As for whatever was happening with Dean, it didn't really progress any further. Dean still crawled into his bed every night with the weepies, at his usual time of about midnight. John had, thus far, kept his hands to himself, waiting for a clear signal from Dean that this was anything but wanting comfort. Thus far, no such signal had been given. One night, while they were watching TV, after Sam had gone to bed, Dean had settled himself between John's legs, then put both of John's hands onto his breasts and John had left them there, not moving them, just feeling the heavy firm weight of them, thinking how lovely and perfect they were, and how if he were any kind of good man, he'd push Dean away right then, but he knew he wasn't a good man, so he didn't. Instead, after a few minutes, Dean had bolted to his feet and up the stairs, to the room he shared with Sam. He still sought out John's bed that night.

One morning, not long after, Sam confronted him, in the car, as John drove him to school. "Are you and Dean sleeping together? I woke up last night and Dean wasn't in our room and he wasn't down on the sofa either."

John swallowed hard. He thought Dean's nocturnal trips to his bed had gone completely unnoticed. Dean always had to wake Sam up, usually from a very sound sleep. "You know your brother is having a hard time. The hormone surges are still bothering him. Some nights, he comes into my room and I let him cry on my shoulder, then he falls to sleep in my bed. I don't have the heart to wake him. He needs his rest. This baby's being very tough on him. So, yes, he's spent a few nights in my bedroom, but we're not sleeping together sleeping together. I'm just posing as his husband. He is still my son, just as much as you."

By then, they'd reached Sam's school and he didn't get a response from Sam, who threw the door to the Impala open as soon as John had it in park and was gone in seconds. He couldn't tell if the boy believed him or not. He hadn't gotten a good enough look at his face, but he did know one thing for sure, Sam was almost eerily good at seeing through people's lies. Luckily, everything that John had said was technically, and basically, still true. John tried to push it out of his mind and went to work. 

Later that night, when Dean came to his room at around midnight, it wasn't with the weepies, but with panic. His eyes were kind of wide and he had both arms around his torso, but he wasn't wearing a shirt. He had one gripped in his hand though.

"Dad, something's wrong," Dean said. He held up the t-shirt in front of him and John could see two wet patches on it. "I've got some kind of discharge and my tits, they really kind of hurt. They've never been like this before."

John had a pretty good idea of what was going on, but he wanted to be sure. "Dean, let me see," he said. When Dean didn't seem likely to come any closer to John, he grabbed Dean's t-shirt and he sniffed the wet spots. There was a milky smell to the t-shirt. 

"A white discharge, thin, maybe bluish-white?" John asked and Dean nodded. "It's okay, Dean. Your milk has just come in early. It's normal. Your mom, she lactated for months before you were born. She had to wear pads in her bra everywhere."

"Milk? I'm making milk? It's three months still until the baby gets here and I'm making milk for her already and that's normal?" Dean asked, disbelief clear in his voice. 

"Very normal. We can go to the city, to the doctor, tomorrow if you want, but I'm certain you're fine. Let me see to be sure."

Dean finally dropped his arms from around his chest just in time for John to see some milk pearl up at the tip of his nipple, then drip down to the floor. It was milk, sweet milk coming from those breasts. John put his fingers out underneath Dean's nipple and a moment later, there was another drip. He captured it and brought it to his mouth. It was sweet and warm, delicious. It'd been years since he'd tasted it from Mary's breasts but the flavor was unmistakeable and unforgettable.

"It's definitely milk, Dean. There's no need to panic," John said.

"Then why do my tits hurt so much if it's just milk?"

"You're a little engorged," John said, looking at them. More than a little, actually. They stood out from Dean's chest, looking beyond firm, but full to the point where the skin was taut. It must have been the nightly hormone surge, working on Dean's breasts this time, not his moods. "Your breasts, they're just full. You'll probably feel a lot more comfortable if you empty them."

"How?" Dean asked, still sounding just as panicked. He pointed to his belly. "She's still in here. Do you see a baby around?"

"Well, I can go to that all night drug store half an hour up the road. They probably have a manual breast pump I could buy. Or you could express the milk by hand. Or."

"Or what?"

John couldn't believe he was bold enough to propose this. That a little milky fluid would be his breaking point, when he'd had Dean in his bed every night for months without making a move on him. That this would be the straw that broke that particular camel's back. It'd been years since he'd done this, since the last time with Mary, before she was turned. It wasn't exactly the sort of thing you could get from a casual, on the road pick up. There was a very deep and particular kind of intimacy created by this thing he was contemplating. There was a trust that had to be there between the two people participating. It was crazy to think that he was going to ask Dean, but he couldn't not, seeing Dean's breasts so full like that, smelling the scent of human milk again, not after tasting just the little bit of it. 

"Or I could relieve the pressure for you. I could suck the milk out," John said. "Dean?"

Dean swallowed hard and for a moment, John was sure he was going to turn around and walk right out of the room. But he didn't. He didn't say anything for seconds, but his let down started in earnest, fast flowing dribbles of milk from each tit, without them even having to be touched. Dean swallowed again, then he spoked. "Yes, Alpha. Please. Please help me."

"What did you call me, Dean?" John asked, unable to believe his own ears. That wasn't even just what a claimed Omega would call their Alpha. It was a certain depth of claiming, a certain kind of Alpha-Omega relationship that wasn't often found in the modern world. 

"Alpha," Dean said. "Please. Just help me. I need you. It hurts and I've needed you so long and you wouldn't take me. Please. Just please."

Dean had been waiting for him? Of course, if he was calling John Alpha and seeking out that kind of relationship, it said something about his deep nature. He wouldn't be able to make the first move, wouldn't be able to ask for it in a clear, unmistakeable way. He'd made a few, tentative moves, placing John's hands on his breasts, and probably had felt rebuffed when John hadn't taken things further. He must have been devastated that night when he'd been so bold as to sit between John's legs and John hadn't done anything further. This was as clear a consent as he'd ever get from Dean, and it must have cost the boy a lot. 

John reached for Dean, took him in his arms and laid him down on the bed. Dean's eyes shut and his whole body trembled. He was as breathing hard as if he were running and the milk kept dribbling out of him, running down the sides of his breasts, gathering in little pools in the valley between his arms and torso. John dipped a tentative tongue there first, just to see how Dean would react to being touched. Dean shuddered, but he stayed still as he could as John licked his left side clean, working his way up to the nipple. Dean moaned as John started on the side of his breast, then licking all the way around the nipple, but not touching it yet. 

The milk was everything John hadn't let himself remember he was missing. It was sweet and a little nutty tasting, and very rich, a little like drinking melted ice cream, but warmed up to body temperature. He wanted more than the little dabs that had run down the side of Dean's tits, so he placed his mouth over Dean's nipple, drew as much of the breast as he could into his mouth, then he sucked and pulled. He was rewarded with a mouthful of warm milk and a load moan from Dean. John swallowed and sucked again. There was something very gentle about the whole thing, something that made him feel very content, happier than he'd been in years. And yet, at the same time, there was something very arousing about it, that hardened his cock until it was almost painful. Dean was also aroused and he moaned the whole time that John suckled on him.

John didn't try and drain Dean's breasts completely. He just sucked until they were soft again, no longer engorged and painful. 

"Better?" John asked, after he swallowed the last mouthful he intended to take. 

"Yeah," Dean said. "Much. Thank you, Alpha."

"Dean, do you know what you're implying when you call me that? It's not just something that they call each other on the TV dramas. Are you really saying that I've already claimed your heart?"

***

The word had just come naturally to Dean's lips. He hadn't even had to think about it. Even before, he'd meant it, but now that John had let Dean come to him, and had relieved the pain, while taking what he wanted to easily, making Dean feel so high, so relaxed, so in love, Dean knew that he meant it. 

"I've been in love with you since I was a little boy," Dean said. "I don't want anyone else to touch me like that ever again. I won't let anyone else touch me like that. If you don't want me, then I'll stay alone."

"Dean!" John said, like it was a prayer, an imprecation. Dean found himself man handled, rolled onto his belly, pulled up to his knees and then just as suddenly, Dean was mounted by his father, penetrated, and it felt like coming home. It felt like something inside him broken open and light flooded out through the crack, warming him, almost blinding him. It felt so good he could hardly think, hardly breathe. It was everything that he ever hoped the men he'd slept with would feel like, but never were. 

Dean could feel his body doing things it'd never done for the other men. He could feel muscles he didn't know he had inside of him clench and move, squeezing the part of John that was inside of him until the man cursed. John was fucking him so hard, so furiously that he lifted Dean's knees completely off the mattress and was holding him in the air. When Dean's orgasm came, his whole body shook, from the base of his spine, spreading outwards and he realized, he'd never really had an orgasm before, not like this. Compared to this, those other times were like little sneezes, here, gone, then forgotten. This was his whole self being turned inside out. He came to awareness just in time to hear John cry out, "Oh, Dean!"

John slammed into him one last time, then he began to swell up inside of Dean, making him feel more full than he'd ever felt. 

"Are you knotting in me?" Dean asked.

"If you don't want me to, you'd better say now, before it's too late," John said, still gripping Dean's hips tight. 

"It's just, you're not breeding me," Dean said. 

"But I am claiming you," John said, "Hold still for a bit. This next part might hurt you a little."

Dean couldn't help but cry out at the next sensation. It was like some giant fist inside of him squeezed tight and wrapped itself tightly around John's knot. John was right. It did hurt some, but not in any way that Dean had felt before. It was like his insides were the only part of his body he could concentrate on and like they were giving the tightest hug they could, using muscles they never used before, so of course it would hurt, but only like it hurt when you were trying to lift something heavier than you could really lift. 

"That's your internal knot, swelling around mine, locking us together," John said as he gently lowered to the mattress, letting them collapse on their sides. 

"I have a knot inside me?" Dean asked. He was pretty sure he'd paid attention in health class, the only interesting class in school, especially to the sex ed lectures. There hadn't been anything about Omegas having any knots inside of them. Oh, they'd gotten plenty of lectures about the differences between Omega and Beta female fertile cycles and how an Alpha knot formed and how pregnancy happened, but he definitely would have remembered if there was any talk about Omega knots.

"Even if my knot swelled up huge, I could probably pull it out of you, except for your internal knot," John said. "You're the one that locks me into place, just like I can't claim you unless you're receptive to it."

They rested a while after that, drifting, sleeping while joined together, waking to discover that they were still firmly linked together. Dean's arm was asleep, so they rolled over onto their other sides and that inspired John to thrust his hips back and forth, rubbing his knot into all kinds of pleasurable places, making Dean see stars again. 

"Am I your first Omega?" Dean asked, when he came down again. "I know Mom was a Beta."

"You're not my first," John admitted, after a while. "But you're the first one I've ever knotted, the only one who's mine."

"John," Dean said. He'd started calling Dad John when they moved here and started posing as a married couple. It would have been strange for someone to hear him call John 'Dad'. "I want you to claim me publicly. Some day. After the baby."

"I will, sweetie, I promise. Have you thought about what kind of claiming mark you want?"

"Bite scar," Dean said, without hesitation. A lot of people, these days, they picked a brand, or scarification done with scalpels and anesthetics, even a tattoo, but the old way, the bite mark, just seemed right to Dean, real and honest. 

"Where?"

"Right here," Dean indicated the nape of his neck, the most traditional place. Probably also one of the most painful, too. He wasn't ready when John began with the fucking motion again, snapping his hips back and forth, to rub his knot against all those lovely inside places. Then, during the middle of it, just as Dean was about to come again, John brought his teeth down hard on that spot that Dean had indicated, biting, probably not with all his strength, but enough to make Deal howl. And John had kept thrusting, rubbing, until Dean came again, despite, or perhaps maybe, because of, the pain. 

Eventually, they were able to separate, and Dean felt empty, scrubbed out, and exhausted. John got a towel, to wipe the blood and other things that covered Dean. Probably Dean should have taken a shower. He was that covered by bodily fluids, not just come, but milk and blood. Probably a little piss too, if he was honest, his bladder feeling so small these days. He fell to sleep in John's arms, still dirty, just dabbed off a little, until he was mostly dry. 

*****

 

Dean slept until long after dawn, until the sun was high in the sky, and woke much later than their usual time. It was a Saturday morning and he could hear faint sounds coming from the rest of the house, his father and brother moving around, doing things. He got out of bed, stretching, feeling as self satisfied as if he were some kind of cat. John was already up, gone from the bed. Dean looked around for his clothes and didn't see any. John had already tidied the room while he'd been sleeping. Dean pulled the sheet and blanket up and smoothed them a bit, but he didn't try and bother making the bed. The bed was low and his belly wouldn't let him bend down long enough to make the tight corners John would expect. Old Marine habits never went away. Then Dean grabbed some of John's clothes from the laundry basket, not the work shirt he'd worn to the garage, but one of the soft plaid ones that he changed into after coming home. Dean couldn't button the shirt closed over his belly, but he didn't care, because the deep musky scent of his Alpha was all over the shirt. Putting it on was sort of like John embracing him, almost. Dean found the pair of old sweats he'd worn to the bedroom last night mixed in with John's dirty clothes, but the t-shirt he'd been wearing wasn't in with them. 

Dressed, mostly, even though most of his belly was showing, Dean headed to the bathroom. The bite wound on the back of his neck was throbbing and he wanted to find some ointment, not to mention, his bladder was filled to bursting. Then there was the shower he should have grabbed last night. Sam was waiting in the hallway though, obviously ready to confront him. 

"Why were you sleeping in Dad's room?" he asked. "Why do you smell funny?"

"Can the third degree wait until I've taken a piss?" Dean asked, as he side stepped his furious little brother. 

Dean closed the door to the bathroom behind him, locking it, thanking Verna and God for working locks. Dean stepped up to the toilet, carefully reached under his belly and grabbed his dick. It was still in reach, for now, but if this belly of his got much bigger, who knew? That taken care of, Dean started the shower, letting the water run until it was hot. He grabbed a smaller mirror and carefully held it so he could kind off get a look at the back of his neck. Just like it felt, the wound was red and angry, the skin surrounding it pink and puffy. Bite wounds got infected easily, Dean knew. Ones from the human mouth were no exception. He dug through the medicine cabinet and found some triple anti-biotic ointment and set it aside for after the shower. 

After his shower, there was a knock on the door. "Not ready to talk yet, Sam," Dean called out as he toweled himself off.

"It's me." And it wasn't Sam. It was John. Dean unlocked the bathroom to let him in, feeling a shiver of pleasure when he realized he was naked in front of John, while John was fully clothed.

"I've set Sam to some shoveling the drive. It snowed while you were sleeping," John said. "So we've got a few minutes alone at least. I got you a few things."

John held up a bag from the drug store and pulled some packages out of it. There was one of those mechanical breast pumps. "For in case I'm not available to help," John said. "Just until we can get you one of the electric pumps."

Then there was a tube of something called 'Scar Cream". It was an antibiotic ointment that promoted scarring, safely.

"For the bite," John said. "I don't want the scar to just vanish. I want it to heal clearly, so no one could mistake my claim. I want everyone to know you're mine."

"Alpha," Dean whimpered. Dean couldn't help saying this. It sprang unbidden to his lips when John said wanted people to know that Dean was his, because Dean wanted, so badly, to be his in very way. 

"Dean, there's something I want to know. You call me that. Do you know what kind of relationship you're asking for?"

"Yeah," Dean said, flushing. He could feel his face grow hot as he thought about it, but he managed to continue. "I want you to tell me when you're going to fuck me, and you just do it, if I want to or not. I want you to take my milk, whenever you want. I liked it when you picked out my clothes and when you decide what I'm going to eat and when i should go to bed. I want to be your little bitch."

"Do you want me to call you that name? Do you really want to be my bitch?"

Dean nodded, feeling his face grow even hotter. 

"You blush so prettily, bitch," John said, as he stroked Dean's face. "Such a lovely face. Such a lovely body. Whenever we're alone together, after Sam has gone to bed, I want you naked, understood?"

"Yes, Alpha," Dean said, honestly so happy at the moment that he thought he might cry. John was giving him everything he'd ever hoped. 

"I know you said you want to wait until the baby is born until I publicly claim you, but I don't want to wait. I going to do it before she's born. Your baby is mine, legally, in this state, if I claim you before birth, no matter who the genetic father is. She'd be legitimate and she'd be my daughter. And whichever one of the Claussen twins it was gets cut out of the picture completely."

Dean grew weak in the knees at what John said. John didn't want to wait to claim him. John wanted everything about him, including his baby, even if it'd come from another man. He had to sit down on the toilet seat. "Yes, of course," he said, when he could. "When?"

"Next week, maybe Wednesday. I've already talked to Vern and he'll give me the day off so we can drive into Salt Lake and go to one of the claiming halls. He's all in favor of it, wants me to make you an honest man."

"Sam? What are we going to do about Sam? He already suspects. I'm sure of it. He was bugging me about why I was sleeping in your room. I'm not sure I can sneak around in my own home, but how can we tell him this?"

"We'll tell him the truth, when the moment is right," John said, then he reached for Dean, pulled him to his feet. "Right now. This moment. It's still just for you and me."

He locked the bathroom door again, directed Dean to bend over the sink, bracing his hands on the vanity, then John undid his jeans and tugged them down just enough. He pressed up against Dean until his cock was seated deep in Dean's pussy and Dean flying, just to know that John was in him. There was a joy he'd never felt during before, just knowing that he was open to receive whatever John wanted to give him. John was somehow both deeply tender and frantic, wildly thrusting into Dean as if this were their last minute on earth. He soon gasped, "Dean!"

For a moment, it seemed like John was swelling, the knot beginning to grow, but John slipped out, leaving Dean to cry out in frustration as his pussy tried to clench itself tight to nothing.

"I'm sorry, baby," John said, petting him, stroking him down the back. "I know. We can't tie, with Sam about to come in any minute. You didn't come, did you? I'll make it up to you. I promise. You just showered and I got you all messy, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Dean, agreed, his voice sounding husky to his own ears. 

"I'll clean you up," John said, and he prompted Dean to bend down even deeper and spread his legs a little. Then he knelt down on the bathroom floor behind Dean and buried his face deep in Dean's cunt, licking it clean with broad, flat strokes of his tongue, even as he jacked Dean's cock. It was, simply, glorious. No man had ever eaten Dean out like this before, much less cleaned his own come out of Dean's pussy, but John seemed ravenous for it. He worked Dean over until Dean's head spun, until he couldn't think straight, until his blood boiled and he shouted as he came. 

"What does your come taste like?" Dean asked, when he could talk again. In a silent answer, John slipped a finger deep into Dean's pussy and dug around for a moment, seeking pleasure spots as well as drawing out some of his come from deep inside. A moment later two fingers were pressed to his lips, a thick smear of pearly white on them. Dean opened his mouth and licked John's finger's clean. It tasted a lot like Dean's own come, or like the come of the other men he'd fucked, but somehow saltier. Somehow better.

"Did you let the other men you've been with fuck your mouth, bitch? Have you eaten their come?" his Alpha asked. 

"I did, Alpha, But never again. No one else but you, ever again, I promise."

"I know, sweet thing, I know."

***

Sam knew something was going on between Dean and Dad. He'd sort of known it for a while. There'd been many nights where he'd been wakened just enough to hear Dean leaving the room they shared, the door closing behind him, another door in the hallway opening and closing. He'd asked Dad about it and Dad had reassured him nothing was going on, and Dad wouldn't lie, would he? Not about that. He hadn't been lying. At least not in the strict sense. Sam could always tell, but there had been something antsy about Dad when he answered. Maybe he hadn't had sex with Dean yet, but he was thinking about it? Or maybe he'd asked Dean and had been told no? 

He knew how he was going to find out though. It was a school night, so he'd been sent to bed early, before the good shows were on TV at ten. He waited, quietly, a few minutes, then crept back down the stairs, avoiding those couple of spots he knew squeaked and creaked. Then he settled down in the spot right on the fifth step, where he was still hidden in the shadow of the half wall that the steps were built behind, but where he could see through the bannister, right into the living room. 

"He's been quiet for ten minutes," Dad said to Dean. "He's asleep. Clothes off."

And Dean did it. Without comment or hesitation, Dean stepped out of the loose sweatpants he wore around the house, pulled the maternity t-shirt he was wearing off. Slipped off his underwear even. Then he just stood there, like he was waiting for instructions. 

Sam knew it. Something was going on between those two, something sexual, but something weird too, because if was just sex, wouldn't they be humping already? 

"That's my good little bitch," Dad said, to Dean. Sam's ears nearly burned. That was such a bad word. One of the worst. You were never supposed to say it. It was worse than cock or fuck. But Dean didn't even flinch when Dad called him a bitch. Instead, he smiled, that bright grin that Sam somehow always hoped was only ever given just to him. 

"Come, sit in my lap," Dad said.

And Dean did. It must have been more than a little uncomfortable for Dad, because Dean was nearly as tall as Dad and maybe he wasn't muscular and broad like Dad, he did have the big ass baby belly, and that big ass. Dean sat sort of sideways on Dad's lap, wrapped an arm around Dad's shoulder. Dad had one arm wrapped around Dean's torso, one hand resting on Dean's belly. His other arm was sort of lying in Dean's lap, his hand not visible from Sam's angle of view. It sort of looked like it went up between Dean's leg's, like Dad's fingers were in Dean's vagina. But they were just watching TV together,. Sam almost fell asleep watching them just watch the TV. At first, it seemed the most exciting thing in the world, to watch your big brother sit naked in the lap of your father. As in, the father they both shared. But nothing happened. 

Except, then it did. Dad moved his hand from Dean's belly to Dean's tit. He squeezed, lightly at first, then harder, until Dean yelped a little. Was that a little spray of milk that came out of the tip of Dean's breast?

"You should have told me you needed to be milked," Dad said. 

Milked? Like a cow or something?

"I'm sorry, Alpha," Dean said. "I should have said something."

Alpha? Had Dad claimed Dean, like he'd said they were only just pretending that he had. Was Dean really Dad's wife now? But what was up with Dean calling him Alpha? Only fundamentalists and weirdos made their Omegas call them Alpha. Sam thought about words bandied about on the playground and in the locker room. Submissive, that was the word. Only submissive Omegas called their Alphas by that and not by their name. Sam knew he was going to be claimed some day, but he would never, he swore, call the man who claimed him, "Alpha." Nor would he suffer anyone to call him ''bitch." 

While he was thinking this, Dad slapped Dean on the ass, loudly, and it must have stung, because Dean's hand moved there, to sooth it, and Dad grabbed Dean's hands by the wrists. 

"Don't," Dad cautioned, "Nine more, for not telling me. Ten total. Over my lap, now."

Dad released Dean's wrists and allowed Dean off his lap, to sort of drape himself over the sofa and Dad's lap, his belly kind of cradled between Dad's opened legs. Dad didn't seem to be making any concessions for Dean's pregnant state other than that though. He spanked Dean hard, the slaps resonated through the room. It was more than ten times, too, More like fifteen. Dean cried out wordlessly with each one, until he was bawling and sobbing. Even from Sam's hiding space, he could see that Dean's ass was just about glowing red. Only then did Dad let Dean get up from his lap. 

"You're such a good bitch," Dad said. "You take your punishment so well. Reward time, for us both now."

"Thank you, Alpha."

Then he man-handled Dean until Dean was straddling his lap, one leg to each side. Dad kept a tight grip on Dean's wrists as he bent a head to Dean's left tit. It looked like he was sucking on it, and he must have been, because Dean began to moan and shudder. A while later, he moved to Dean's other tit. Finally, Dad lifted his mouth off Dean's tit and kissed Dean, or something like it. It looked like he was letting fluid run from his mouth to Dean's. After it was all transferred, Dad said, "Do you like the way you taste? You'll be such a good nurser. Make enough milk for all your babies and still have enough left for me. Such a good mother for my babies."

At Dad's direction, Dean sort of lifted up. Dad was wearing old sweatpants and he slipped them down his hips, revealing the most gorgeous cock Sam had ever seen. Not that he'd seen a lot and those mostly only on the internet. Dad's cock was ten inches, easily, and uncut, with a very generous foreskin. Then Dad grabbed Dean by the hips and forced him down on that cock. Dean whimpered as Dad began to fuck up into him. 

"Oh, God, so good," Dad whispered. "Such a good breeding bitch. Soon as you've had that baby, going to breed you up another."

Something about that, about the way Dad said it, caused something to clench inside Sam. It felt like the bottom of his stomach dropping out. Sam's pussy was suddenly tingling. Not just tingling, but wet too. His cock was hard. As his father slammed his cock into his brother's cunt again and again, talking about how he was going to breed Dean, how soon after the baby was born he was going to start fucking Dean, pouring come into his greedy snatch, Sam reached into his pajama bottoms for his cock, then pulled them down just enough for access. He pulled on his cock, hard, as watched his Dad fuck Dean. With how furiously Dad's hips were slamming into Dean, his dad wouldn't last long. Sam imagined it was him, not Dean, that Dad was fucking. That Dad could be putting babies into him right now. Dad lasted a whole lot longer than Sam thought he might, because at about the same time that Dean threw back his head and cried out wordless, coming hard, so did Sam, but Dad kept pounding into Dean, until Sam was hard again and even long enough for Sam to come again, coating his hand with more of his own come.

Dad finally groaned, and his hips started pumping irregularly, then fast and furious for about twenty seconds. He'd come. He'd spilled his seed into Dean's pussy. He allowed Dean to flop bonelessly onto the sofa. Then he directed Dean to spread his legs open wide. "Let me see your cunt," Dad said. So Dean laid on his back, legs spread, and even Sam could see the glistening, white load of come that filled up Dean's pussy. 

"Such a cum hungry little whore," Dad said, but it sounded like an endearment, not an insult. He dipped a finger into Dean's cunt, playing with his own come. 

"Only for your come, Alpha," Dean said, and he was smiling, huge, even chuckling a little, as if he were in such a good mood it couldn't be contained. "I love you."

"I love you too, little bitch."

They snuggled on the sofa a while longer, watching TV again, just cuddling, though every now and then, Dad would bend his head down to Dean's breasts and suck a while. Sam fell asleep watching them, his pajama bottoms still down around his thighs.

*** 

They'd fallen asleep in front of late night TV for a little while, but it was time to go upstairs after they woke to the sounds of an infomercial. John clicked off the TV and shook Dean by the shoulder. They'd had such amazing sex and seeing the sex disheveled form of his little bitch, cum dripping from between his legs, he wanted to do it again, grew a little hard even. But there was work tomorrow, a long, tough day, a couple of transmission jobs waiting for him at the garage. So he controlled himself and just shook Dean awake. 

He was startled to see Sam fast asleep on the stairway. Not just there, but with his pajama bottoms down, his little Omega cock and balls hanging free and loose. John's cock twitched and filled to an instant half-mast at the sight of his youngest son. He pushed the arousal down though. It was bad enough he'd fallen for his oldest son and taken him to wife. More than that. He'd made Dean his bitch. Sam had obviously been watching them fuck, masturbating to it even. John could see the dried come stain on the carpet next to Sam. That wasn't a good enough reason though. John was not going to take his youngest son too. He wanted to though. He, suddenly, really did

He wasn't going to, he reminded himself firmly. It wouldn't be fair to Dean. And Sam was only twelve. Way too young. 

"You go up to bed," John said to Dean. "I'll take him to bed and talk to him. He obviously saw something."

"I think he must have seen everything. That's like the perfect spot. It's what I would have picked," Dean said. 

Sam didn't wake with a simple shake to the shoulder, so John picked him up and carried him up the stairs. He ignored whatever part of him didn't tug up Sam's pajama bottoms before lifting him up, one arm under his shoulder, one under his knees. Like a bride. He was still so small, John thought. Just over the cusp of maturity, but nowhere near fully grown. Sam had just started his monthly cycles six months ago, right at about the time Dean's had stopped. John contemplated as he climbed the stairs. Thought about the fact that if Sam got pregnant right now, at this size, he'd probably stay this size. Omegas tended not to grow any more once the hormonal storm of pregnancy hit their body. Sam would stay a petite and delicate little guy forever. He wasn't even five feet yet. That kind of had an appeal to it. Dean had reached nearly full growth before his pregnancy and as much as John loved having him on his lap, it could be a little awkward, but Sam at this size was just right. 

"Daddy," Sam said, sleepily, opening his eyes as John hit the top of the stairs. "Give me a baby, Daddy. I want you to knock me up."

John just about dropped Sam right there. He'd expected a lot of different things from Sam. Recriminations, accusations of betrayal, anger, but not this. Not a sweet begging to be impregnated.

"What?" John asked. His voice sounded strangled to his own ears. Maybe the boy was sleep talking again.

"Give me a baby, like you want to put into Dean. Or, should I say, little Bitch," Sam said. 

"Sam, only I can call him that," John said firmly. "As for the rest, you don't know what you're talking about. It's late. You're half asleep."

"Uh-uh," Sam said. "Imma wake. Saw what you and Dean get up to. Want you to do that to me. Sort of. Not your bitch. Never your bitch though."

By now, they were in the room that had pretty much become Sam's room alone. Dean hadn't slept in it at all really. His stuff had been kind of migrating to John's room. And now that Sam knew, there wouldn't really be any point in pretending that Dean slept anywhere than with John. 

John should have dumped Sam onto his bed, but he held him there in his arms a while longer, relishing the compact feel of his body, trying to picture it with a generous baby bump, with sweet little tits too. It would be so easy to lay him down on the bed and pull those pajama bottoms down all the way. He could picture himself spreading Sam's legs, hiking them up to his shoulders and sinking into Sam's tight, young, mostly likely virgin cunt. And then fucking in and out, no condom, no barrier. Letting his knot grow and form until Sam whimpered at how full he was filled up. Filling that cunt full of his seed every night until Sam caught a baby. It was tempting, so very tempting. In fact, he was rock hard, just thinking about it. 

"I love you, Sam," John said. "Which is why I'm not going to put a baby into you, no matter how much you beg prettily."

That was when John dumped Sam onto his bed and turned away without another word, walking out of the room. shutting the door firmly behind him. He walked across the hallway, to his own bedroom, where his wife, his bitch, waited for him, naked, still full from all the come he'd been given earlier in the night. Dean was still awake, lying on his side, watching the door, naked under the covers.

"Hands and knees," John told him and Dean complied, not asking any questions. John fucked Dean hard, fast and furious, not taking the time or effort to see that Dean was enjoying it, not caring if Dean got off. This was just about unloading some of the pressure, the rush of arousal. Dean did come though, his pussy pulsating around John's cock, just as John came too, then started feeling that extra swelling. They were locking together again, just like their first time. He'd only allowed it a few times so far, always slipping out before the knot full formed. It took so long until they were able to free themselves. But it wasn't like sleep was going to come this night for him whichever way. He roared as he came, not caring that Sam couldn't help but hear it. 

Later, Dean asked, cautiously, "Alpha, not that I mind it, but what's this about? I thought you were pretty much done for the night."

"Sam asked me to put a baby in him," John said, talking softly into the back of Dean's neck. The claiming bite was almost healed up, John could see. It'd formed a nice, clean scar with good margins. 

"Are you going to?" Dean asked.

"Not yet,"John answered, knowing this was the only honest, true answer. Unless Sam went away, there would always be that request between them. John would always know that one night, Sam had asked him put a baby in him and now it was always a possibility. He knew that his answer might hurt Dean, but he wasn't going to lie to him either,. 

"I understand," Dean said. "It's okay. He's a beautiful Omega. You can do what you want with him. You know, fourteen is legal in Utah. So is plural marriage. I'd like that, actually. If you claimed him. I was talking with Jessamyn, down the street. She and Peter are siblings and wives to same Alpha."

"You want me to take him?"

"I don't get a vote, really. I'm yours. You're Alpha," Dean said. "But if I did, I'd want it for him, because I love him, and you've made me so happy. I think you could make him that happy too."

John ruminated on his choices for a while. Then there was a tentative knock on the door. John hadn't locked it and before he could say one thing or another, it opened. Sam was on the other side. He didn't step into the room yet. He was completely naked, stripped of pajama pants, and his little Omega cock was at full mast, erect against his belly.

"Daddy," he said. "Please. I want this so bad. I didn't know, until I saw you and Dean. But I want it. It's something I need."

"Come here," John said, indicating that Sam should approach the bed. Sam climbed in. Dean opened his arm and Sam snuggled into Dean.

"You're tied, into Dean?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, will be for a while," John said. "I have a proposal for you, Sam. It's a real proposal."

"Like a marriage proposal?"

"Exactly like. I propose that in two years, when you're fourteen, I claim you. You can be my junior wife and have your babies then. Not until then. I'd expect you to stay virgin until then. I wouldn't want you even dating other men or boys. Do you want it badly enough to wait for it?"

"Do you want me totally pure, or just a virgin, with my hymen intact?" Sam asked, always one to question, to drive a bargain.

"What do you mean?" John asked. 

"I mean, you've given me this and it's not going down," Sam said, and he pointed to his hard cock. It was such a sweet little thing, about five inches long, fully erect, not cut. They'd managed to convince the hospital not to automatically circumcise him, like they usually did every Omega. Dean hadn't escaped uncut. "You wouldn't want me to suffer, would you?"

"No, I wouldn't want that," John said, laughing a little at his youngest's boldness. "Come here, scoot up by my face."

This time, John did spread Sam's legs, expose his little pussy. John pressed his face into Sam's crotch and sucked that sweet little Omega cock into his mouth. Sam was gasping and thrusting into John's mouth pretty much immediately. It took just a little bit of pressure and then John's mouth was flooding with Sam's salty, hot come. John swallowed it all down, eagerly.

"Daddy!" Sam cried out, and somehow, hearing Sam call him that made it hotter, made his cock twitch in Dean's cunt. John wondered how the hell he was going to make himself wait until Sam was fourteen. 

 

***

 

Though it made him pout and act generally insufferable, Sammy slept nights in his own bed. Dean was glad of this, even though that was selfish of him. It was probably just because John knew that if Sammy were in their bed every night, it wouldn't be long until John was knotting Sammy too, that he wouldn't be able to keep his promise not to take the boy until he was fourteen. For now at least, Dean had the nights and early mornings with John all to himself. Sammy still had his nine-thirty bed time, even though sometimes John tucked him in with a quick blow job, if Sammy had been good, had done all his homework without complaint, had helped Dean out around the house. Dean didn't mind this. John never took his pleasure with Sammy's body in any way, but came in afterward and nailed Dean through the mattress. Other than that, things weren't very different, other than that they didn't need to hide, and that meant Dean spent pretty much his whole time at home naked. 

It was Tuesday night and he and Sam were cuddling on the sofa, waiting for John to come down from his after work shower. 

"Why do you like it when he calls you bitch?" Sammy wanted to know. "I won't ever let anyone call me a bitch. Not even Dad."

"I don't know. I just hits me right here," Dean said, trying to indicate not the baby, but lower, his pussy. "And my heart too. It lets me know that he understands that I'm his, all his."

It was more than that though. The way John said it, it seemed warmer and sweeter than most people calling someone honey or baby. When John said it, it sounded like bitch, but what it meant was, "I love you, and I will always see that you are cared for." Little bitch was even better somehow, like it meant, 'I love you. You are mine. You don't need to worry about anything, because I will be there." Dean wondered if he could find the exact words to explain this to Sam, how loved and protected Dean felt. How owned. 

"You know, why do you call him Daddy when you come? Or when you're begging him for a blow job? He's more than just your Dad now. It's just kind of weird to call him Dad when he's got his mouth on your dick."

"Not Dad. Daddy," Sam said. "It's different. Daddy is big and strong and makes me feel good. He tells me I'm a good boy when I deserve it and tucks me in, so I know I'm safe."

Dean wondered if Sam would understand that they both meant pretty much the same thing when he said Alpha and Sam said Daddy.

"I'm getting claimed tomorrow, Sammy. It doesn't seem really real. You know, when I was a little kid, I'd tell anyone who would listen, that I was going to marry my Daddy and give him babies. There was this first grade teacher, Mrs. Fator. She took me aside and told me that Daddies couldn't marry their sons. Guess I proved her wrong."

Just then, their father came down the stairs, in a robe he'd bought a couple of weeks ago, rubbing his hair dry with a towel. Somehow, his Dad actually having a robe made it seem more real that they were going to be staying here for a while. A robe wasn't the kind of clothing that made the cut when you were traveling and John had never had one before that Dean could remember. 

The doorbell rang just then and Dean looked to John for a clue, if he should scramble up the stairs or into the other room. Something about John's look made Dean stay in his place, next to Sam, naked, just the way John liked him. John opened the door and a small group of neighbors, people they'd met in their short time here, made their way into the small front hallway. Verna was at the head of the little group, as she was so often, but Peter from next door was there, and LeeLee from across the street. 

"He ready?" Verna asked. She sounded excited, like there was some kind of party going on. 

"And things will be taken care of like we agreed?" John asked.

"It's all set," Verna said, sounding positively gleeful. 

"Dean, come here," John said. For right now, at least, his Alpha didn't call him bitch in public. People didn't usually understand and Dean didn't mind. It was kind of a secret endearment that way. He liked it that way, that people didn't fully get the full extent of the strangeness of his relationship with his father and Alpha. It made him feel warm, a little tingly like keeping a secret made you feel. 

Dean obediently got up from the sofa. He didn't make any move to cover himself, but walked right over to the group.

"I want you to go with them," John said. "They're going to get you ready for tomorrow."

"I thought we were just going to go into the city and do it quickly," Dean said, a little confused. Not that he hadn't heard of the rites and preparations before hand, but they weren't necessary. 

"Oh, sweetie, when Vern told me that, I put my foot down," Verna said. "When we have the nicest claiming grounds in the state right here, why would you go there? Couples travel here from the city to use them. And the whole point of a public claiming is so that your friends and family can see the truth of your bond. You won't get that in a public hall. I arranged everything. All you have to do is let us welcome you as a couple and into our community."

Dean had never really heard anyone talk like that before, at least not to him, not outside of books and shows. It made him feel kind of uncomfortable, but so happy. So welcomed. 

"You have to take that necklace off," Peter said, holding his hand for it. "You have to leave your father's house naked as the day you were born. I mean, I know you're already at your Alpha's house, but John said he wanted the full ceremonies for you, just like if you were a virgin."

The thing was, Dean had never felt too naked, so long as he was wearing his jewelry. The amulet was a gift from Sam. The ring he wore on his right hand had belonged to his mother. But it was part of the ceremony, and John seemed to be expecting that he go along with this. It was kind of ridiculous that he get the full virgin treatment, seeing as he was just over six months pregnant, but no one in the crowd of neighbors seemed to think anything odd about that. He decided to play along. He took them off and put them into Peter's hand, who then handed them over to John. 

"I'll keep them safe for you," John promised, as if he knew just how precious those little trinkets were to Dean. Then he collected one last kiss and spoke his voice deep and low, into Dean's ear, "I expect you to do everything Verna says, little bitch." It wasn't a whisper though. Everyone in the room would have heard John call him their secret name.

"Yes, Alpha."

Then someone was wrapping a blanket around Dean's shoulders and they were picking him up and carrying him away. He was put into a car and driven, not far, but then, you couldn't get very far in Mount Pleasant until you were outside of it. They parked at an unfamiliar house in the middle of town. It looked like any of the older houses in the center of town, only in the living room, right on top of the hardwood floor something like a kiddy pool was set up. Uncomfortable looking settees and side chairs were pushed off to the edge of the room. 

"Bath first," Verna said as Dean was unwrapped from the blanket. That was what the kiddy pool was for? He looked doubtfully at it. Leafy bits were floating in the water, though it looked otherwise clean.

"I already took a shower today," Dean said. 

"It's a ritual bath," LeeLee explained. "Scented with herbs."

Dean still didn't want to play along, but he remembered what his Alpha had said. He had to do everything Verna said. 

Verna just pointed to the pool and nodded, so Dean sighed and stepped into it. The water was warm, even a little hot. 

"You just sit down and let us scrub you clean," Verna said. "That's the easy part. You'll like it."

And he did. At least, he liked the scrubbing part. He hadn't been bathed since he was a tiny little boy, before his mother had died. Once that had happened, he'd automatically graduated from getting baths given to him, to giving baths. He'd never minded, but suddenly, he missed having this tender, loving care in his life. 

Each member of his wedding party came up once at a time and grabbed a handful of herbs out of the water. They used them to scrub at different parts of his body and they talked to him while they did it. Peter started.

"You've been so nice to me, so helpful," Peter said. "Helping me out with little Marjane, even though you didn't have to."

So many other nice things were said about him. It was part of the ritual. Each person had lots of little nice things to say about Dean, how kind he was, how good he was with babies, how helpful he was, how responsible. It made him uncomfortable, hearing all of that, nothing but good things directed at him for several minutes. He didn't deserve it, all of this praise. It wasn't that it wasn't true, but that they were the sort of things that anyone would have done. By the time Verna was telling him what a good homemaker he was, how she didn't have any worries about the state of her house when they moved out, because she'd seen how he kept it, Dean was about ready to flee from the tub and out into the night, never mind that he didn't have any clothes and it was snowing outside. 

She seemed to get how hard it was for him though. "You're doing great, Dean. You'd be surprised how hard it is for most folks to hear the good things about themselves. Most folks you see, they don't feel any more worthy of love than you do, but you are loved. Not just by that Alpha of yours."

Verna, thankfully, was the last one to scrub him, and speak to him this way. 

"Okay, next step of the rituals, is that a respected spinster of the community, that's me, take your hymen, so that there's no pain tomorrow. Now, is there a chance in hell you've still got a hymen, Dean?"

"Lost long ago," he said. 

"Thank God for that. I've got no desire to get up in your cooch," she said. "So, we can move right on to the anointing."

Anointing, Dean had always thought of as just a brush of the forehead with a bit of holy oil, but Verna seemed to interpret it as massaging him with sweet almond oil, all over his body. Each person present, took turns on him, moving to a different place. Peter went last and he was the one that oiled down Dean's baby bump.

He laughed a little. "I'm supposed to be blessing you, so that your womb will always be fruitful and that your husband plants a seed in you during your claiming. Since I'm pregnant, you know. But since you're so much further along than me, it seems kind of funny. I just hope your birth is as easy as can be hoped for and that you have your heart's desire when it comes to how many children you have."

Then it was time to eat little sweets.

"Normally, it's little cakes," Verna said. "But a little birdie told me you like pie better."

So, she brought out miniature pies, cherry pies.

"Awesome," he said, then he bit into one. 

 

***

John watched as the wedding party he'd arranged completed their faux 'kidnapping' of Dean, symbolic of old times where an Omega might literally be stolen from his family home to be claimed by whatever Alpha he'd caught the eye of. Dean had been surprised, truly, and perhaps a little panicked by the sudden attention, but hopefully he'd be pleased in just he same amount. John strung the ring onto the necklace, so it wouldn't get lost, then hung the necklace around his own neck, to keep it safe for Dean. He smiled to himself, thinking of tomorrow morning, when he would publicly take what he'd taken privately a few weeks back. This calm, eager anticipation wasn't anything like he remembered feeling the night before he'd married Mary. That had been a night of sick nerves and drinking enough that he could barely crawl to the altar the next day. Perhaps it was that tomorrow wasn't so much a change in their state or the start of something new, but just the logical progression of what had happened so far. 

As he walked back upstairs, to get changed into fresh clothes, he thought about how he'd called Dean his little bitch, right in front of the wedding party. Dean had startled a little bit, but then he looked pleased, even smiled at John for it. He'd definitely had to start doing that more often. One of the things he'd noticed about this town was that, at least among adults, it wasn't uncommon for an Alpha to call his Omega bitch openly. 

John threw on some jeans, a plaid shirt, his better pair of boots and walked back downstairs. Sam was watching the TV. John grabbed the clicker from him and turned it off. 

"Come, sit on my lap," he told Sam. Sam clambered on, hugged John around the neck, and kissed him on the neck too. John wrapped his arms around his younger boy, thought again, in a moment of weakness, about breeding him right now.

"When you claim me, are you going to make me be naked all the time, like you do Dean?" Sammy asked John.

"No. I'll expect you naked in my bed, but not other than that," John said. "Unless you want to be my little bitch too."

"Never!" Sam said. Actually, John was pretty sure he wouldn't want Sammy to become his bitch too. Sam's contrary nature could be frustrating, but it was lively, strong and vibrant. He might need a knot and to be bred up, but Sam would always want to be his own man. Though Sam's pushiness could be challenging, John relished it because it meant that Sam wanted so much, to do so much, be so much. Even as he was denying that he wanted to be John's bitch, Sammy was nuzzling around John's neck, kissing the bare skin there. "What if I wanted to be naked outside of bed?"

"Then, that would be your choice," John said, even as his cock thickened at the thought of Sam running around the house naked too. "You are a willful little thing, aren't you? Get undressed for me now."

Sam grinned as he pulled off his shirt, baring his flat chest, with nickel-sized pink aureolas. He had to get off John's lap to pull down his jeans. His little cock was erect already and John masturbated his son, as Sam rocked back and forth over John's own erection straining through through his jeans.

Eventually Sam asked, "Fuck me, Daddy?"

"No, remember, I expect you to be a virgin when I claim you," John said. "That means even me. But I wanted to do something special for you tonight, since Dean his having his special day tomorrow. Let me make you come first though."

They fell back into a rhythm, John's big hand dwarfing Sam's cock, Sam rocking his hips in time to John's hand, until he threw back his head and came. His cock spurted little squirts of white come on John's hand. John put the hand up to Sam's mouth and said, "Clean up for me." 

Sam licked John's fingers clean, swallowed the come down and kept licking, as if he hoped to find more. "You like the taste of come, baby?"

"Yeah," Sam answered. 

"Good. I want you to get down on your knees, between my legs," John said. He unbuttoned the top button of his jeans, unzipped them, slid them down just enough that his cock could spring free. No more pressure of fabric against his cock. Sam's eyes widened. "This is something your brother doesn't do for me. I haven't asked him yet. If you like it, it could be something only between us. Something special."

Sam, without hesitation, gobbled John's penis down until he must have been gagging on it. After a few bobs of his head, he backed off. He wasn't exactly a pro, but Sam had obviously been taught already how to give a blow job. He wrapped his hands around the base moving them up and down as he trailed his tongue over the head of John's penis. He even knew the trick about sticking his tongue between the foreskin and the head of the penis and rubbing it around and as he did this, it felt so amazing that John felt his balls draw up tight against his abdomen and then he was coming in Sam's mouth. He couldn't help thrusting deeper as he did so. His come overflowed, he made more than Sam could swallow in one gulp on his own and the cum dripped out of Sam's mouth, flowing down the sides of his mouth, down his chin.

"Why, you little slut. Who taught you to suck cock already?" John had been sure he'd need to talk Sam through this.

Sam just grinned and rocked back on his heels, cum coating his chin. "I'll never tell," Sam said. "I made a promise not to."

There was a knock on the door. John didn't bother to pull himself together, because he'd recognized the tread of the feet on the wooden porch. It was Lyle from next door. Peter's Alpha, a man that had become an easy friend to John. Lyle was a good man, treated his two wives and seven kids well. He ran a construction company and raised his family with old fashioned values. He called Peter bitch openly, without a thought to it, but used the word with the same warmth and love that John always meant when he used it.

"Door's open," John called out. Sam seemed like he was going to head upstairs, or even just wipe his face off, but John put a firm hand on his shoulder, to indicate that he should stay. So Sam remained where he was, between John's legs, his face glistening with cum, looking like every bit the slut that he apparently was.

Lyle walked in and into the living room. He sat on the other end of the sofa and looked at Sam.

"I knew you'd be taking the younger one too," Lyle said. "You claim him privately yet or just using his mouth?"

"We'll be holding out for fourteen," John said. "He's a clever little minx with his mouth though."

"You know, you take him across the border to Nevada and he's legal at twelve, if he's got a medical statement he's mature enough for babies. Or at any age if he's knocked up already. That's what I did with my bitch Peter. He had his first baby at twelve. A mite young, but I couldn't keep my hands off him. Still can't. I don't see how you could keep your hands off of that."

"I think his mouth will keep me happy for some time to come. Want to try it?"

"I wouldn't say no," Lyle said. "But what's your boy think of it? You want a taste of me?"

Sam was about to open his mouth and say yes. John could even see the shape of it in his mouth, but then he decided maybe he should look to John for guidance. John nodded, then said, "Apparently he's a cockslut. You want to suck Mr. Darvish's cock, Sammy?"

"Yeah, I do."

***

Sam's jaw ached after Mr. Darvish was done with him, so bad that he almost wondered if he'd ever be able to shut his mouth fully again, but he loved it. It wasn't the cocks themselves that he loved, though he did like the heavy feel of them in his mouth, and the way they twitched and moved as he worked them. He loved the way they hardened even more just before the guy was about to come in his mouth. But what he loved more than the cocks was the come itself, the salt taste of it, the feel of it in his mouth, so thick. The way an Alpha's come filled his mouth, way too much to swallow down all at once, until it had no choice but to flow out of his mouth, at the places where he couldn't make a tight seal with his lips. 

Sam even corrected John at one point, saying, "I'm not a cockslut, Daddy. I'm a cumslut."

Mr. Darvish was a good looking Alpha with a cock that was nearly as big as Daddy's and his come tasted really good for some reason. Not as good as Daddy's had, but a little sweeter. Sam wondered if this was Daddy meant by something special. Not just the sucking of cock, but the being shared with friends. If that was the case, Sam was more than okay with it, so long as it was just his mouth. He liked sucking cock.

At one point when he'd been sucking off Mr. Darvish, the man had called him a sweet little bitch and it'd been all Sam could do not to pull himself off the man's dick and run to his room, but then Daddy had said, immediately, "Sammy is nobody's bitch. Not even mine."

After than, Mr. Darvish had called him sweetie. In his mind, apparently, they were about equivalent. When he was done with Sam, he said to John, "You were right. Clever boy with his tongue. His pussy is probably pretty sweet too. I'm telling you, take him to Nevada and make him legal. The town will let you have a claiming in their grounds at any age, so long as you have a valid marriage certificate from another state. So, your little Omega can have his wedding too.

Sam listened carefully. He remembered what Mr. Darvish said, so long as an Omega was pregnant, he could get married or claimed in Nevada. He also knows from health class that you can get pregnant even if the sperm wasn't shot directly into your pussy. It just has to get close-ish to the pussy and can swim upstream from there. Daddy's conditions are pretty clear. Sam had to stay a virgin, but he was pretty sure it didn't count if you stuck your own fingers inside of you. Sam formed a plan, a clever plan, he thought. He had found a way to get what he wanted now, rather than later and still be within the letter of his agreement with Daddy. 

"I'm going to go clean up," he said to Daddy. 

Sam headed up to the bathroom, once there, he locked the door behind him. He looked in the mirror and using his right fore finger, he wiped some come off his chin. He then stuck it up his pussy and swiped it around, wiping the come off inside him. He repeated his actions again and again, until all the come was off his chin. He wondered if it would be Mr. Darvish's baby or Daddy's. If Mr. Darvish's sperm had a better chance, since he came most recently, or if it doesn't matter, because Daddy's sperm was really only from a few minutes before that. Not that he even knew for sure if he was at the most fertile peak of his cycle. He knew that it had been a couple of weeks since he'd had his monthly bleeding, so it was close to his fertile time, even if it wasn't there exactly.

He'd rather have Daddy's baby, of course, but he'll take what he can get, so long as it will make him pregnant. Sam was one hundred percent sure that Daddy would be furious, but he also didn't care. Both Daddy and Mr. Darvish gave him their come of their own free wills. Once they had done that, what he does with it wasn't really any of their concern. He swiped his finger across his chin one last time, just to capture any last drops and he found none. After that, he washed his face with soap and water. Then he found some fresh clothes in his bedroom and dressed.

He was supposed to be going over to the Darvish house, while Dad was taken out for a bachelor party. Jessamyn was going to watch him and he was going to hang out with Rory, one of Mr. Darvish's Omega sons. Sam wasn't quite clear whether Rory was the son of Jessamyn or Peter, but there were so many children at the house of all ages, that it somehow doesn't matter who gave birth to who. Jessamyn and Peter seemed to take equal care of the kids, but in different ways. Sam kind of hoped that when their family got started, that it'd be kind of like that, with Dean watching his kids so much that nobody but family really knew which kids belonged to Dean and which belonged to Sam.

Once downstairs, John sat Sam on his lap again and said, "Thank you for taking care of my friend. He seems very happy. Did you like doing it? Do you want to do it again sometime?"

"With Mr. Darvish?" Sam kind of hoped not, nothing to do with the act itself, but just the fact that the more times he'd take the man's sperm, the better the chance that the baby he's arranging for himself will be Mr. Darvish's and not Daddy's. Both of them seem like they'd have pretty potent sperm, but Mr. Darvish had fathered seven kids to Daddy's two.

"I have other friends too," Daddy said. Sam liked the sound of that. It sounded like it meant more chances to put his plan into action.

***

After the little pies came presents and Dean had never gotten so many at once before. He'd only ever gotten one at a time mostly, and mostly they'd come from Sam. This night, there was a massive pile of brightly wrapped boxes. He was almost overwhelmed and he would have refused them all, except for the fact that most of them aren't really for him. 

It wasn't part of the rituals, but Verna was using some time at the end of them to throw him a shower. A mixed shower, she'd said. Part wedding shower, part baby shower. Most of the packages in the pile were various shades of pink and Dean suspected that a lot of those were baby presents. That was the only way he could stand to be okay with being in the center of attention like this, knowing that the presents were for his baby, not him. She needed a lot of things and they hadn't really gotten even the basics for her yet.

He started unwrapping, to the oohs and aaas of all present. Mostly it was girl appropriate clothes, all pink and green, little onesies and sleeper sacks. Impossibly tiny lace trimmed socks. A hand knit sweater in a lace pattern. A couple of dresses, in lace trimmed pink. Opening all those clothes, it hit him hard, suddenly, that in a couple of months, it wouldn't be just a big belly in front of him. There would be a little person that will need these clothes, and a whole lot more too boot. From the size of the clothes, he could get a sense of how big she would be, and it made him imagine holding her in his arms. Not that he hadn't held other babies. He'd held Marjean, Peter's youngest, plenty of times. But this was somehow, suddenly more real than that. He could hardly breathe for a moment at the gravity of it all. 

It was Peter who recognized Dean's panic and spoke up. "Hey, I think we've seen plenty of baby clothes. Plenty of time to open the rest of those later. He's still got over two months, nearly three before she shows up. Let's see some wedding presents."

Peter picked out the next gift for Dean to unwrap himself. It was a big box, but not that heavy. He ripped through the paper and opened the box. Inside was a big, fluffy robe in deep, not too bright green. It looked like it was big enough to wrap all the way around his pregnant belly.

"To keep by the door," Peter said. 

Dean suddenly thought of how many times he'd knocked at Peter's door, only to have it be answered by Peter wearing a robe, usually over nothing else, at all times of the day and night. Peter knew and understood. Peter's Alpha kept him naked around the house too. Peter wasn't just Lyle's Omega. 

"Thanks, I'll probably need this," Dean said. 

 

***

 

Sam felt like he was almost glowing, with his little secret, like a ball of warmth deep down in his belly. He had come inside of him, where it might make a baby. The fact that he'd been given another orgasm as a reward for sucking off Mr. Darvish also helped that glow. Mr. Darvish had watched, palming his cock through his jeans, even though Sam had proof inside him that the man had just got off.

"Daddy," Sam asked. "Do you remember when you said you didn't want me to even date other men?"

"Of course," Daddy answered. 

"Then why did you just reward me for sucking another man's cock?"

"Because if you're going to be my Omega Sammy, even if you will never be my bitch, your pussy, your mouth, even your little cock. They all belong to your Alpha. That's the way it is between Alphas and Omegas. If I want to give that mouth to a friend of mine to use, I will. While I'm gone with Dean, I want you to do whatever Mr. Darvish says and if he asks for something, you give it to him. Understood? He'll know what he's not supposed to ask for."

"You mean, if he asks, I should suck his cock again?"

"When he asks you to suck his cock again. Not if. I've asked him to see to your needs. You're a greedy, willful brat sometimes and you need a lot of attention."

"Maybe you should spank me, like you spank Dean," Sam suggested, just teasing.

"I just might. Now, be good and do what Mr. Darvish tells you."

Then they'd walked across the street. Sam had a few things, a couple of outfits, in a gymbag with him. He was going to be staying with the Darvish's for more than the night. After the claiming tomorrow, he'd go home with them for a few days. Dad and Dean were going to have a sort of honeymoon, just here in town and just a few days, but that meant that Sam couldn't be around, he'd be a distraction. Don't worry though, Daddy had promised him, when they'd talked about it a few days ago. You will be well taken care of. Yes, Sam thought to himself. If it was Mr. Darvish taking care of, it would definitely be good. Mr. Darvish looked at Sam with that certain look. Sam knew it well. It meant that an Alpha found you appealing. In Sam's experience, that meant you could talk them into things. 

When Sam had protested that when Dean was twelve, Dean had been taking care of Sam and they'd been left alone, in strange hotels, for days on end. Well, at twelve, Dean wasn't a cum hungry little slut like Sam was, he'd been told. Actually, if Daddy only knew. Dean had just been better at hiding it than Sam was. Or rather, Sam had no interest in hiding it at all. 

Just before he left, Daddy lifted him up, all the way off the ground and gave him a deep kiss, one with tongue, that left Sam weak in the knees and wet in the pussy. Then Daddy set him down, said, "Be good for the Darvishes."

"I will, Daddy," Sam promised.

After that, Mr. Darvish and Daddy set off for their bachelor party. Rory, the Omega who was Sam's age, had been waiting on the porch, and he stepped forward to say hi to Sam, who looked at him, wondering what to say to the boy. Rory and he knew each other, not just as neighbors, but also at school, but Rory was one of the most popular Omegas in their class and Sam was just a misfit. Rory would talk to Sam only if they were out of school and there were positively no cool points to be lost. As for Sam, even though he'd been allowed more Omega style clothes, his years being raised as a Beta had lingering effects. Sam didn't sit right, he didn't move right. He didn't even talk right sometimes. Then there was the time Sam had stood up for himself to a bully. Omegas weren't supposed to fight, they were supposed to be fought over. When Sam caught himself a baby and would be allowed to drop out of school, he wouldn't miss that kind of shit.

Rory, on the other hand, was an ideal Omega, raised correctly from birth. He sat with his legs together firmly, but not crossed, never crossed. When he walked, he didn't swing his arms or bounce. He was deferential in his his speech, even to the stupid knothead Alpha teens and pre-teens who they studied with. He wore v-necked t-shirts and the tight jeans that Sam liked the looks of, but couldn't get used to the feel of wearing. Rory wore his hair longish and pulled back from his face. Sam wondered if Rory knew that Sam was under orders to suck his dad's cock, whenever asked.

"Why do you call your Alpha Daddy?" Rory asked, venom in his voice. "That's weird."

Yeah, he knew.

Luckily, Jessamyn was also standing nearby, watching them. "Rory, quit being such a pill," she said, her voice no nonsense. She was pretty much the embodiment of no nonsense. She wore a plain black shirt and jeans with sneakers. She had her hair pulled back in a tight braid. She wore no jewelry other than a simple gold ring. Even her face was plain and forgettable. She was exactly the kind of woman you wouldn't have expected to find a man like Mr. Darvish married to.

"If you don't want to hang out with Sammy, then go do something else," she added. "But I won't have you being rude to guests. I am not above cutting you off from phone privileges on the day when Jim is scheduled to call you."

When Rory stomped off inside the house, leaving Jessamyn and Sam on the porch. "Jim's his fiance," Jessamyn said. "He's in the Army, on deployment, only calls once a month or less. Mr. Rory there gets all kinds of moody when he's deprived of his man."

Despite the fact that it'd only been a week since he'd become Daddy's Omega, Sam could understand that. He was missing Daddy already and it'd just been minutes. "That's not my fault," Sam complained.

"No, but don't expect him to see it that way. He's not fully rational at the moment," she said. "Come on in to the house. I'll get you some dinner. I don't expect your Alpha remembered to see you were fed, except two loads of come, one his, one Lyle's."

Sam startled to hear a Beta woman say that so matter of factly, without judgment in her voice. She smiled to see his surprise and said, "Oh, sweetie, I've been living with the most Alpha of Alphas for near twenty-five years now. Married to him and raising his babies for fifteen. I know how they are and I know how he is. And I know what he and your Alpha planned for you here and that's okay, so long as it's what you want too. It is what you want, isn't it? Because I also have no compunction about telling that man to go to hell."

Sam thought about her question. About sucking her husband's cock in her house with her knowledge and apparent consent. He'd loved doing it when Daddy had asked, he really had. He thought about the chances to get more come to put inside of him. Mostly he just thought about how much he wanted to taste that come again. 

"You really don't mind if I suck his cock?" he asked 

"Better you than me," she said, with a smile. "I hate doing it."

With that, she led him into the house. It was nicer than it looked on the outside. The outside was a morass of unfinished projects, the siding half replaced a different kind, that sort of thing. The inside, though, was neat and tidy, no unfinished walls or floors. Just hardwood floors and white walls, but lots of art on the walls, including one whole wall that, floor to ceiling, was covered with framed up art done by kids. The kitchen was warm and had a big table that would be big enough for the whole family plus kids. Jessamyn poked around in her fridge and made up a plate for him of left overs. She made him sit down at the table and eat, sitting around the corner from him.

"Twelve's a rough time for a lot of you Omegas," Jessamyn said, as Sam was shovelling these really amazing tasting potatoes into his mouth. " You develop early. Your body's woken up and it's demanding things. It wants what it wants. It wants cock. It wants babies. It wants to come hard, like every five minutes. And either the grown ups around you either think you're way too young for all of that and they deny you any of it. They treat you like a kid and don't even let you kiss boys. That's how I treat Rory and I insist Lyle does too. Or alternatively, they treat you like your Alpha is treating you. They let you dive right into adulthood without a second thought and they start fucking you, putting babies into you, because your body is ready. But your brain hasn't quite caught up yet, nor your true maturity. I'm not sure which way is harder on boys like you in the end. I thought your Alpha's way was worse, a lot worse, but as I'm seeing Rory grow into a hateful little creatures, I wonder if your Alpha's way is better and I should just let Jim go ahead and put a baby into him. You seem a lot happier than Rory. Peter's alway's been pretty happy and Lyle started fucking him at eleven."

"My Alpha wants me to wait until I'm fourteen to have a baby," Sam said. Then he confessed, to her, because she sounded so nice, so reasonable about the whole thing. "I'm not going to wait. I've got a plan."

"Oh, Sam, that's probably a terrible idea," she said. "But listen, there's something you need to know. Your pussy, your whole body, your Alpha probably says it belongs to him. Here's the thing, it doesn't belong to him unless you say it does. It really, always belongs just to you. You just keep on giving it to him again and again. And if you really want a baby so badly, you should do it, because that's your mistake to make, not his."

"My Alpha's going to be really mad," Sam said. "But I don't care."

"Sweetie, if you want to call him Daddy, that's fine. 'My Alpha' sounds mighty uncomfortable coming out of your lips. It's okay. I get it. That's what I call Lyle when he's bedding me. Me and Peter, we were like you and Dean. Our parents died when we were young and Lyle took us in and raised us. Then when we were old enough, he took us to be his wives. He'll always be my big strong Daddy."

 

***

Sam safely in the care of Lyle's wife, John and Lyle left for his bachelor party.

"Don't worry," Lyle said as they walked. "I'll take good care of your boy for you. Follow your rules. My cock goes nowhere but his mouth."

"It's funny, I always knew he was pushy and bossy, maybe a bit greedy, but I never really thought to see it expressed so sexually. He didn't just not mind sucking your cock, or mine. He loved it."

"He's that kind of Omega. I could see it, first time I met him. You get the sweet ones, like your Dean or my bitch Peter. Then you get the pushy ones, like your Sammy or my Rory, that is, if Jessamyn ever lets him grow up. The sweet ones are better to marry. They'll always do what you want, sexually, without a complaint. But the pushy ones, they will always want what you do sexually. They'll just be dying for it and that is its own kind of wonderful, but don't expect peace if you marry one or one to be your good little bitch."

"I'd never expect that out of Sammy." John laughed a little at the thought.

They went downtown, to the little business district with its two and three storied brick buildings. There was a side entrance to one of these buildings. On the simple wood door was carved an interlocking star pattern, the Aquarian Star. This was the only sign of what went on in the second and third story of this building. It was the symbol of the Men of Letters, the same one as was on the signet ring John wore on his right hand, the one that had been given to him as a boy, the last remaining thing from his father. 

It hadn't been just the look of him that Vern had liked. Vern had caught sight of the signet ring on John's hand and that had been just the first door it had opened to him here in this town. Vern had taken him to the bar across the street from the garage after his second day of work and after a beer had asked him, "Do you know the meaning of your signet ring, John? Where did you get it?"

John had said. "I don't know much. It's the symbol of a fraternal order called the Men of Letters. My father died when I was boy. There was terrible fire at the local hall of this fraternal order and he died in it."

Actually, there must have been more to it than that. The fire must have been supernatural in origin, because John had investigated it as a grown man, found copies of the police and fire investigator's reports. There had been references to "accelerants that burned hotter than any known accelerants" and a devastation that had killed a dozen men in minutes, turning the building into a pile of rubble before the trucks could get there, when the firehouse was less than three blocks away. And yet the rubble patterns had proved that it was not an explosion, but a fire.

"Are you related to a Henry Winchester, John?" Vern had asked.

"That's my father's name," John had said. "This was his ring."

"You were never raised up in the order?" Vern asked. 

"My mother's people raised me at first," John said. "Then when he died, I got put into the system, raised in foster care. The ring is all I have left of my father. I don't even have a photo of him."

"We all know the sacrifices Henry Winchester made to keep evil out of this world, John. I suspected who you were the instant I saw your ring and knew your name. You're a legacy. There is so much to teach you, so much for you to learn."

And so he'd been inducted into the Order of the Men of Letters. They'd been a little horrified at first, when they'd found out these were not his first forays into the world of the supernatural, that he'd been a hunter for years. 'Mouthbreathing apes' had been whispered once where he could hear it, but mostly, once they'd heard about his history, about Mary, they'd understood. He'd been put on what they deemed the right path, learning the lore, the teachings, begun his initiations. He was told that he would learn, in time, the true cause of his father's death. But that wasn't what tonight was about. The Men of Letters were a social order as well, and tonight was his bachelor party. 

It was nothing wild, but there was beer and a poker table. John played poker fiercely still, but now that it wasn't one of the ways that he supported his family, all his effort went to making sure that he walked away with not a penny more than he'd come to the table with, while making sure that everyone else at the table knew that he could have fleeced them all for their last dime. He was up a little too much now, so he threw his hand, discarded a ten of spades, drew a three club and ended up with a busted flush and down just enough.

Kevin, the guy next to him, saw what he'd done. "You do that on purpose?" he asked. John just let a little smile quirk his lips up a little in answer and Kevin said, "You're a shark, John. What are you doing, playing to lose with a bunch of suckers like us?"

"I enjoy the game," John said. Especially when he didn't need to win, when he could afford to lose.

Vern settled at the table next to him for the next hand, taking Lyle's place. As the hand was dealt, Vern pushed a little amber pill vial across the table at him. Inside were a few light blue, triangle shaped pills. "For tomorrow," Vern had said and John scowled. He'd never, not once, needed a pharmaceutical answer to the problem of getting a boner. 

"No need to be embarrassed," Vern said. "Many an Alpha thought he had no problem, then ends up coming up short when it comes to popping his knot in front of an audience of about a hundred of his friends, neighbors and family."

"I'll keep it in mind," John said, and despite the fierce thought that he would need no such help, he grabbed the small bottle and stuck it in his shirt pocket. He was getting a hard on, despite having come in Sam's mouth earlier, just thinking about taking Dean in front of every one. But the last thing he wanted was to come up short at the crucial time tomorrow.

"It'll also be fierce cold tomorrow, even for our usual November," Vern said. "You know what the cold can do to your manhood."

John hadn't thought about that, about it being November and then he calculated, thankfully, not the anniversary of Mary's being turned, though it wasn't long past that. He hadn't, for the first time in years, thought about it, let it consume him. He'd probably spent most of his free time that day deep in Dean's pussy. He thought back. Yes, definitely spent that night inside Dean. And he'd let Sammy ride his face, brought him to an orgasm before bed time. He wondered what Mary would think if she knew just what had happened to her boys. He found it hard to believe that if she actually knew how happy Dean was, that she would deny him any of that. Perhaps Sammy she would have a harder time with, but then, it was clear to John that Sammy wouldn't be doing anything he didn't want to do, that if he didn't want his Daddy's cock, then he wouldn't be getting it. Sammy wanted what he wanted and he usually got it. 

Lyle came back, another couple of bottles of beer in his hands. He put one of them in John's hand and said, "Vern giving you the gloom and doom lecture about not being able to pop your knot in front of everyone?"

John drew out the little bottle of blue pills and shook them.

"In my experience, for a certain kind of Alpha, and I think you're one of them, having an audience makes it easier and better. Just knowing that everyone knows that sweet little bitch's pussy is yours to do what you please with."

John's cock twitched in his pants again, imagining fucking Dean in front of everyone, right out in the open. Verna was right. This was going to be so much better than doing it front of a larger crowd of strangers in the city. These were the people he was going to raise his new family among, who he would see at the bar in the evenings, at the coffee shop in the morning and they would have the image in their minds forever of his knot planted deep in Dean's pussy. The morning could not come soon enough for John.

"Amen to that," he said. 

***

The dawn was just turning the sky a slight purple when Peter woke Dean and started to get him dressed in the traditional white shirt and pants. 

"Normally, you'd just wear something old and worn out," Peter said as he pulled a fresh, obviously new set of white clothes out of a garment bag. "They're just going to be ripped off you. But your Alpha wanted you to look beautiful even though you won't be wearing them long before they're torn off."

"Wait? Torn off?" Dean asked. It occurred to him that he didn't really have a good clear idea of what was going to happen to him, other than that John would knot him in front of everyone and that it would have to be demonstrated that they were tied together. He suddenly felt overwhelmed again, like he had so many times during the rites and the party last night. It was stupid to think that he could go through this thing without making a fool of himself, without embarrassing himself and his Alpha. He just wanted to back out of all of this, to just do it in the city where no one he knew would see him acting like an idiot. He wasn't scared, not of the act itself, but of making a fool out of himself.

"You've never seen a claiming before?" Peter asked. 

Dean shook his head. "The way we grew up, there really wasn't any going to weddings."

Peter shook his head in dismay. "Then you're lucky to have me around, to take you in hand. First, there will be some words spoken by an elder of the community. You don't really have to pay attention to them. They're for the audience."

That didn't sound too hard. 

"Then comes the foot-race," Peter said. "Don't worry. As pregnant as you are, no one is expecting you to run. We'll start you out not too far from the place you'll be claimed and you can walk."

"Okay, I can do that. I could run if I had to," Dean said. He'd actually kept up his running through his pregnancy, right up until last month, when suddenly it felt like his center of gravity had shifted on him and he'd gotten huge fast. He'd felt awfully unbalanced when running, so he'd stopped, but he'd kept up with long walks around the neighborhood.

Even so, he thought, if he had to, he could still give John a pretty good run for the money. Then he remembered, with a smile, that the whole point of the exercise was to let John catch him. And that, he could do. He wanted to do that, more than anything, and always had, for as long as he could remember.

"It's okay, I can do this," Dean said, feeling fully confident, maybe for the first time since his pregnancy hormones had started kicking up on him. "I've been waiting to do this my whole life, long as I can remember. I've been in love with that man since I was four."

So, Peter just helped Dean get dressed. The shirt was lightweight cotton, no collar, a simple pattern of stripes woven into it and it was maternity, so it buttoned easily over his belly, covering it, even though the matching pants had to ride low under his belly. There were no shoes to go with it. Apparently, he had to do the foot race part barefoot, even though it was bound to be freezing as hell out there. Dean wondered, yet again, about the wisdom of doing a public claiming in late fall at an outdoor claiming ground, as pretty as it was supposed to do. Peter promised that the actual time where he'd be vulnerable to the cold would be very short. 

After the shirt and pants, came the wreath. He had to wear a freaking wreath on his head.

"Can you explain to me again why I gotta wear a flowered hat?" Dean asked as Peter adjusted it on his head.

"It's a chaplet and it's traditional. Your Alpha chose the plants himself. There's myrtle for true marriage, rosemary for remembrance, yarrow for ever lasting love."

And protection, thought Dean. He still remembered his hunter's training. He knew his magical herbs pretty well. Not as well as Sammy did, who could just spout hundreds of them off and their meanings and lore, but he did a serviceable job with them. He certainly could read the meaning of this wreath and it was as clear a message of love as anything Dean had ever seen, and a wish for a happy marriage. 

"You know, I don't know what this one is," Peter said, pointing out some purple pink spikey flowers. "I've never seen it before."

Dean smiled. He knew this one, though he'd never know how John could have gotten it fresh this time of the year on short notice, but it must have taken some doing. "Bistort. It's the strongest herb there is for fertility. Not that I really need help in that regard, so far. Okay. I guess I wear the flowered hat."

He settled it on his head and felt a little bit silly, but very much loved. The herbs had been picked for their meaning, not their aesthetic values and it looked a hot mess and it was a little uncomfortable, with stems poking into his forehead.

"I guess that makes me ready," Dean said. 

Peter then offered him some dry crackers. They were from the sleeve of saltines he kept around to help with his morning sickness. 

"I'm supposed to be fasting until afterwards, right?" Dean asked.

"You are, but you're also six months pregnant, so nobody's going to say a thing. Got to keep your strength up for the baby," Peter said.

Dean reached for a few and nibbled on them, then they left the guest room of Verna's house, found her waiting in the living room. She was yawning, sipping coffee and dressed in a flowered dress that must have been her Sunday best. 

"I don't know why your Alpha insisted on the asscrack of dawn as the time for the ceremony, but he said it was important."

Dean knew. New things, new beginnings. Magically, they were best done at the start of things. Sunrise, moonrise, a night where the moon was the very smallest crescent and waxing. Dawn was pretty powerful, magically speaking, for new beginnings. 

"Let's go then," Dean said. "We don't want to be late."

The claiming grounds were on the other side of town, where the terrain started to get really mountainous and they drove up a couple of switchbacks to get there. It was an area set into the side of a mountain, rock sheltering it on three sides, pine trees growing all around. Mostly it looked just like a park with one of those outdoor theaters. The claiming area itself had a pavilion built over it, roofing over the mating platform and rows and rows of bench seating. In the center back was a big stone fireplace, and a fire was burning in it already, a nice big one, and maybe the area by the mating platform might not be too cold. People were already gathering, finding their seats. They were wrapped up in parkas, carried thick blankets or even sleeping bags with them. 

If Dean had been surprised at the two dozen people who'd showed up for the shower part of his evening last night, then his jaw dropped to see that over a hundred people were already here. They'd made friends in this town much faster than Dean ever expected. Maybe they were all here just for the spectacle, that they were bored, with nothing else to do in a small Utah town, but then again, that might make sense if this were a late afternoon. This was early enough that even it would keep the casual away, at least, this late in the year. Because it was freezing. Like if Verna wasn't letting him keep her big down coat on over his thin white garments, he'd be blue, outright hypothermic. 

Verna bustled back from wherever she'd gone and she said, "We're just about ready. Let's get Dean to his place."

They led him from the parking lot, to a cleared spot in the lawn in front of the pavillion. There was a shoveled path through the inches of snow, clearing it down to the paving stones. 

"Now, Vern and I will stand in for your parents," Verna told him. "We'll be down by the platform, ready with our challenge questions. All you have to do is run or rather walk down to where we'll be waiting. Your Alpha will take care of the rest. No need to worry about anything."

No, there wasn't. This would be good, no, it would be amazing. 

 

***

 

It was finally, fully dawn, the whole world around Dean taking on a rosy, pink glow, especially the snow that covered everything. The heaped clouds to the east were practically neon pink, almost red and Dean thought about the old saying about red skies in morning being a warning. But for the moment it was all just heart-stoppingly beautiful, even though his feet felt like blocks of ice, standing on the frozen ground and his teeth were chattering despite the big coat around him. Then, he turned around and there was his Alpha, also dressed in white, standing in a small group of his friends.

Dean's heart felt full to bursting, so full of joy that his whole spirit seemed like it couldn't be contained by something so small as his body. It felt like his soul, at this moment, was as big as the mountains around them and it just grew bigger when Alpha smiled at him. If Dean had any doubts, any hints that he wasn't in love with this man, that he hadn't been in love with him for as long as he could remember, they were completely gone. His heart was pure and perfect right now. He hardly noticed that Peter and LeeLee were slipping Verna's coat from around his shoulders. Someone put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Go."

Dean took off, walking the first few steps, but then it was like his heart gave wings to his feet, and floated him off mere pavement. Maybe it was he'd gotten more used to his body this way, but he didn't fear losing his balance at all. Filled with an unbelievable lightness to his whole being, baby belly forgotten, Dean ran, feeling secure and free in the fact that he knew that his Alpha would catch him. 

***

Dean looked back and smiled at him, looking so beautiful in the simple, white outfit, his face highlighted in the pink light and John knew his decision to do this at the very start of the day was the right one. Some signal was given to Dean and he took off, moving fast, and he'd broken into a full out run after a few steps. Dean was a lot fleeter of foot than he looked like he'd be for his size and still in good shape though they no longer trained for the hunt. More than running fast, he was laughing, as if his happiness couldn't be contained and it made him look more beautiful than ever. John was given the signal to follow after him and he took off running, also, somehow infected by Dean's laughter. About half way down the path, it branched off, the other fork heading off into the pine woods around them, then looping back to the other side of the pavilion. It quadrupled the distance they'd have to run, maybe more. Dean must have not been willing yet to give up the joy of the chase. John hadn't thought that at all, that this part of it would be so much fun, but it was a game they were playing with each other and John didn't want it to end either. Maybe Dean was thinking about the old wives tale about how the longer the Omega evaded his Alpha, the happier and luckier the marriage would be. Either way, Dean took the branching, not the path direct to the pavilion. John followed him, shortening the distance between them slowly, but not quite able to close it yet. 

Soon, they were running among the trees, the path weaving and turning quickly, then Dean headed off the path altogether, while John overshot, not realizing until he'd turned the corner that Dean had evaded him. He stopped a moment and listened. Dean wasn't making any effort to conceal his movements and John heard the slither and crunch of pine needles under someone's running feet. He turned towards the noise and soon found himself in a place where the pines grew tall and broad, plenty of space between them, their lower branches gone, so they formed a kind of canopy over head and they ran through the bare trunks. Whatever undergrowth there might have been was smothered somehow, by the thick layer of pine needles underfoot. The trees also sheltered the forest floor from the snow. John found himself wishing he could take Dean here, under the canopy of the trees, not in the artificial pavilion that mirrored this place. Then he saw the risen area about forty feet away, an obviously man made construction. This place was also used as a claiming grounds, though probably only in the summer. 

"Catch me if you can, old man," Dean taunted, nearly at the other side of the copse already and back onto the path as it started curving back to the pavilion already. "Six months pregnant and still faster than you."

John pressed on another burst of speed, not caring about how his bare feet were sending him messages of discomfort, even distress, from the cold and snow under foot. He came within ten feet of Dean as they burst out of the woods again and into the pavilion clearing. He hadn't had to run like this in months and his lungs were burning, his heart pounding in his chest, but the adrenaline was buzzing high through his whole body and he hardly noticed that he was reaching the red-line, running as fast as he could. But then again, did he deserve the beautiful creature achingly just out of reach, if he couldn't catch him? 

Dean was slowing down a little and John could hear the puffing of his lungs. Dean knew he was slowing too, because instead of taking another looping that would add another couple of hundred yards to their run, he darted down the path direct to the pavilion again. Dean made it to within twenty feet of where Vern and Verna stood in front of the claiming platform before John was able to close the distance completely and put his hand on Dean's wrist. Dean tried to shake him off and keep running, but John kept a firm grip on Dean, who stumbled on his feet and brought them both down. Dean curled protectively around his belly and landed on his side instead. John twisted and avoided landing on Dean's torso at all, falling only onto his legs, face first onto Dean's hip. 

Then Dean was laughing and he was laughing with him and they were in each other's arms. It was like the hundred or more people around them weren't even there. It was like they were alone in some kind of heaven together, just him and his little bitch. Then they were kissing. The touch of Dean's lips on his was intoxicating, rich and lush. Dean was open to him, ready for the plundering. He slipped his tongue into Dean's mouth and Dean sucked it in with a moan. Dean's body was warm under his, soft and hard in equal measures. His nipples, the aureolas dark with his pregnancy, were readily visible under the thin gauzy top he wore and John started to rip at it, to get access to those lush, perfect breasts. He ripped it all the way to Dean's navel, then completely open, exposing the perfect, round belly, so gorgeously full of life and Dean's perfect tits. Designed just for this actually, it was easy to rip, the neckline not reinforced with stitches, the loosely woven fabric tearing readily. 

John's hands found their way to Dean's tits and he thought about how their first, tentative touchings had been Dean's breasts. He thought about the sweet milk that Dean made with them, the nutty, rich taste of it. He thought about how his children would suckle at those breasts. 

When they separated their mouths for a minute, Dean whispered, "Alpha, take me now."

The crowd around them murmured, perhaps some in disapproval, others in agreement. Surely, they weren't the first couple ever to get a little carried away on their wedding day and the real point, the important thing about today wasn't the words they'd speak, but the knotting that would happen soon. It didn't matter though. Whatever the crowd was feeling, all the people were suddenly there with them. They were no longer off in some infinite, quiet time all their own. They were back in the moment.

"Not quite yet, little bitch," John said, regretfully. His cock, no help from Vern's pills, was rock hard, ready just about, to pop a knot the instant he'd be able to push it into his little bitch's pussy. But there were the challenges to answer first, the final step. Though it wasn't required and it was pushing his strength to do it, especially after the extended foot chase, John put an arm under Dean's shoulders and the other under his knees. He lifted his Omega and carried him the last twenty feet until he came to stand in front of Vern and Verna. 

They'd come, in the short time he'd known them, to be like surrogate parents to him, the father that John had never had, never even really known he'd been missing all his life. It was with gratitude and love that John turned to the man for the first challenge. 

There were standard challenges and answers, traditional ones, for people who wouldn't know what to say in a public situation, but John had never been uneasy at just talking, nor was Vern. Three challenges from the Omega's parents were required, but what they were wasn't. They could be rote formula, just going along with the ritual, or they could be serious challenges meant to stop the claiming.

"Does this boy belong to you? Or do you belong to him?" Vern asked. 

John thought carefully. That certainly wasn't one of the standard challenges. The obvious answer was, of course, that Dean belonged to him. But it wasn't like he was Dean's owner. It wasn't that simple. There was a mutual obligation created by their bond.

"I don't know how to answer that," John said. "Neither is more true than the other, and the statement 'he belongs to me' doesn't even make sense to me without the opposite, that I belong to him."

Vern just about beamed at that answer, his wrinkled face lighting up. "You'll do, son," he said. 

Verna spoke up next, "How many babies are you going to give this boy?"

Part of him wanted to say, a dozen, name some number, because of how wonderful it would be to have the children, to make the Winchester family a huge family again. He remembered the day Dean was first put into his arms, not so very long ago, and just how much the potential love he had in him had grown, like it grew exponentially and then when Sam had come along, it had grown more, until John's heart had all but burst out of his chest with the force of it. And even though she was yet to be born, Dean's little girl had made his love grow again. It was like his love was infinitely expandable, the more he had to share it with. But it wasn't John's choice, was it, how many children Dean bore. Oh, his little bitch would do anything John told him to do, and would bear as many children as he was told, but that wasn't fair. Bearing children was a life or death decision, pretty much, so it belonged with Dean. 

"I'll give him his heart's desire. As many or as few as he wants."

"Good man," Verna said. 

Vern stepped up again and asked, "Could you love him any more than you do?"

"I don't know," John admitted. "The first time I laid my eyes on him, I didn't think I could love anyone more, but then every time I saw him, it was like I loved him more. It doesn't feel like it's possible to love someone more than this, except the next day, I love him more than I did yesterday."

"Yup, you'll do, John Winchester," Vern said, then he cuffed John lightly on the shoulder. Of course, it was the buffet of an Alpha, who even though he up in his years, still worked on cars every day, lifting heavy parts, wrenching stubborn bolts apart. He might have been shriveled by the years, but that just condensed his strength. His light buffet might have knocked a lesser man than John Winchester right over. 

A claiming ground wasn't a religious place. It wasn't run by priests or congregations. It wasn't government either. There wasn't some judge who had the authority to marry them. But it was an extension of the community. The town counsel appointed a grounds master who had the authority to sign the marriage license and generally ran the ceremony. The towns grounds master was a Beta woman named Tommie and she spoke up next. 

"The three challenges have been placed and three have been answered," she said to the crowd, in general. 

Then she addressed herself specifically to Vern and Verna, "Are you satisfied with the answers that have been given? Will you allow your son to be claimed by this man?"

"We will," they both said, together. 

It was at this point, in the regular claiming ceremony where an Omega got a chance to speak, to offer a vow to the Alpha, to raise an objection to being claimed, if there were one, though there mostly never was, because these weren't the days where Omegas were stolen away to be claimed against their will. This was the alternate ceremony though. Dean had made his choice already. He'd become John's bitch, given his consent already in private, and he didn't get a chance to object or to promise himself. John was taking him. There would be no question of that and the whole town would know that John was taking Dean, not just as Omega, but as Omega bitch. His still hard cock twitched a little in pleasure at this thought. There wasn't a legal difference between that kind of claiming and the 'regular' claiming, but people would know. People in this town noticed that kind of thing. Approved of it even.

So the grounds master went right on to the community challenge and said, "If there is anyone here now who knows of any impediment to this man claiming this Omega as his own, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

There was a hushed silence over the whole pavilion. The only sound, a sudden snap and pop from the sap filled pine logs burning in the big stone fireplace. Dean suddenly was shivering in his arms and though John didn't think it was the cold, he pulled Dean closer. 

Still, Dean must have been freezing. His gauzy shirt hung like a useless rag already, the pants weren't much warmer and Dean had been running and sweating. John let Dean wrap his arms around his neck, hid his face in John's chest. He'd thought again of the folly of having an outdoor claiming in late November. Thankfully, it would be just a few more minutes and then they could move on to the platform, close to the fire.

Tommie addressed herself to John, asking, "Is it your intention to claim Dean Campbell for your own? To love, cherish and honor him for all the days of your life? To make of him a wife and mother to children? To tie your souls together just as your bodies will be tied together today."

"It is."

"Then by the power invested in me by the town of Mount Pleasant and the State of Utah, I pronounce Dean Campbell claimed and bonded by you and to you. May no man render asunder what is bound together here today. You may now claim your Omega."

All eyes were on him as John carried Dean over to the platform and laid him down on it. It was a stone plinth, carved out of the same granite as the mountains surrounding them, and it would have been cold as a witch's tit if it weren't for the fact that it'd been heaped with warm blankets, a foam pad and even a thick feather bed. It was about the size of a double bed, just lower than hip high on him, so he could lay Dean on his back, pull his legs up into the air and fuck into him while standing. Missionary position was kind of expected for the claiming, but it was out of the question with Dean's belly in the way. This way was as close as they could get to missionary. 

John pulled off the tattered remains of Dean's shirt and threw them to the side. He found the precut slits in Dean's pants that would make them easy to rip in half, from the center, and he pulled, until the fabric separated with a big tearing sound. He pulled the now separated legs off Dean, one by now, tossing them onto the heap of cloth from the shirt. Dean was wearing nothing else besides the chaplet.

"You take that off now and toss it to the crowd," he told Dean. "There'll be a group of young Omegas. You throw it to them."

Just like when a Beta bride threw her bouquet, the Omega who caught the wreath would supposedly be the next one to be claimed. The Omegas clustered near the platform, jockeying for position as Dean took the wreath off his head and prepared to throw it over his shoulder. John was sure that Markie Erickson, a young Omega who worked at the florists across from the garage was going to get the wreath, It was headed his way. Until Sam burst into the front of the group, jumped up higher than the rest of them and grabbed the chaplet out of mid-air. He had a huge grin on his face as he shoved it on top of his head, which was a lot smaller than Dean's, so it just barely was held up by his ears. He tipped it back so it rested more to the top of his head, like a verdant halo. Well, Sammy would get his chance to be bride soon enough. Two years wasn't long at all. 

More than the theoretical chance of being claimed soon, the Omega who caught the chaplet became part of the small group of observers who officially pronounced that Dean had been tied and claimed, who signed the marriage certificate as witnesses. There was a respected spinster of the community. That would be Verna. There was a married couple. That would be Lyle and Jessamyn. And now there would be Sammy. Sammy settled himself down on the ground not far from the plinth to watch. Verna stood nearby, smiling warmly. Lyle brought a folding chair for Verna, then another pair for Jessamyn and himself. Lyle urged Sammy to sit on his lap and winked at John when Sammy climbed on.

John stepped out of his own clothes, glad to free his cock from the confining cloth of the pants, then he laid down next to Dean, both of them as naked as the day they were born. With the nest of blankets and being close to the fire, it was really almost warm. Comfortable. That was what this moment felt like. Like they were just at home, in his bed, together. The guests at the claiming were forgotten again as Dean smiled at him. They were alone together and for some reason, John thought of the Bible verse, about Adam and Even being naked together and not ashamed. He was not ashamed at all to be here, in this moment, about to make love to Dean in front of everyone he knew in this town.

"I'm ready for you," Dean said.

"I know, little bitch, but there's no rush. It's my duty to see that you receive pleasure first," John said, then he kissed Dean, first tenderly, just the brushing of lips on lips. Dean sighed softly at his touch as John stroked his flank lightly, then worked his way up to Dean's tits. He rubbed them both lightly, then squeezed, noticing that they seemed kind of full. Last night, Dean had probably pumped his way through his nightly hormonal milk surge, but John had noticed that Dean was making milk around the clock now. 

"May I?" he asked, bending his head to Dean's left tit.

"You don't need to ask," Dean said. "They belong to you now."

"I'll always ask, when it comes to this," John said.

"Go ahead," Dean said, his voice rough. 

So John suckled, pulling deep mouthfuls of milk, relishing them and their sweetness. He didn't want to spend too much time doing this, lest people think he was doing what he was doing, rather than just nuzzling, sucking on nipples and breasts. Just a few minutes on each breast and he was done and Dean was moaning, his lovely little Omega cock standing straight up.

"I'm going to eat your pussy now, little bitch," John said. "Spread your legs."

Dean did, but John spent plenty of time on his way down to it, rubbing and touching Dean's pregnant belly. Worshiping it even. The baby moved, just tiny little jabs he could barely feel, but she was there with them. 

"You are so beautiful pregnant," John said. "I wish you could be pregnant all the time. One kid, right after another. You'll be such a good breeder."

"I'll give you as many as you want, as often as you want," Dean promised. 

With that, John knelt between Dean's legs. He lifted up those legs, draped them over his shoulders and pulled Dean's pussy up to his face. Dean wouldn't be able to stay this way for long, supported on the one end by his shoulders, but John tried to take as much of Dean's weight as possible and this position was better than just about any other for really burying his face into a pussy as far as John was concerned. He lavished attention on Dean's labia, the smooth inner pair mostly, but he wasn't immune to the charms of the outer haired flesh just beside them. The hair kept the faint odor of Dean's cunt in it, sort of musky and floral like too. As he worked the labia with his tongue, he rubbed a strong, firm hand up and down Dean's cock.

Only, he realized he needed some kind of lubricant for Dean's cock, to give him a hand job. Dean had been circumcised, like most baby Omegas, in the hospitals and without a foreskin, the delicate skin of the his cock could get dried out, irritated by the repetition of motion. Baby Dean had been lucky that the doctor who circumcised him hadn't decided to give him an "Omega trim". Sometimes, when a doctor thought an Omega baby had too big a cock, that they didn't present a seemly enough picture of appropriate gender, they cut that cock down to size. After all, a cock wasn't thought to be central to an Omega's sexual pleasure, supposedly. It was barbaric. The circumcision was bad enough, but 'everyone' thought that Omegas should be cut. 

Lacking any lube beyond his own spit, John turned to sucking Dean's cock as he eased a finger, then two into Dean's pussy. John was soon rewarded with a shout, a burst of come in his mouth and the feeling of Dean's pussy pulsing around his fingers as he came. John let Dean slip back down onto the bed. He didn't swallow Dean's come right away, let it rest on his tongue, tasting it, loving it. Some Alphas wouldn't let their Omegas come in their mouth, thought it was unmanly or something. John didn't understand that. He loved the proof that he had brought pleasure to his bitch. He savored the come while Dean caught his breath and swallowed when Dean opened his eyes again. 

"Now you're ready for my cock," John said, and he was aching to finally sink into Dean's cunt. He'd been hard since catching Dean at the end of the footrace, so hard and aroused that he was pretty sure it was inevitable that he'd come at the moment of penetration.

"Such a gorgeous cunt and it's all mine," John said. "Going to give you that knot you want, that you need. Going to make you mine forever." 

He climbed off the platform stood next to it, pulled Dean close to the edge so that he could pull Dean's legs against his chest. Then he plunged right in. And it was worth the wait through the ceremony and making Dean come first. Because Dean's pussy was so tight around him, despite being super wet, he slid in, but it was like sliding into a clenched fist, a slick, fully lubricated fist. As he predicted, he didn't last long, but felt his whole body tense up, felt the unbearable urge to batter into Dean's body as hard and as fast as he could. 

He lasted on that plateau for only a few minutes. The air around them was frigid, but Dean's body was hot against his skin. The world collapsed again, until he was aware of nothing other than the feel of their two bodies moving as one. It felt like they were melding into one being, inseparable. They breathed as one. He couldn't feel it, but he knew that their hearts must be beating in synchrony. It couldn't be any other way. Dean's eyes had been closed, but as he opened them, and John could look into the dark green eyes, that was the tipping point, the moment where time itself seemed to stop. He was coming. He could feel his body do all the usual things it did on orgasm: the drawing up of his balls, the contraction of them, the tensing of his whole body. But that almost seemed beside the point at this moment. He could feel Dean's mind inside his somehow, a moment where he truly didn't know where one of them began and the other ended. He thought he felt what Dean was feeling, the exquisite curling and winding up of pleasure under heavy, relentless pounding that rubbed into all his spots and made his body feel like it was contracting to one dense point of pleasure. As Dean cried out his pleasure again, John roared his and they were joined as one. John swelled up, could feel his knot grow, even as he felt the echo of Dean's pleasure, that fist inside of him grabbing, almost trying to crush the knot inside him, not willing to let it go. 

Because John teased Sam about being a greedy Omega, but the truth was this, when it came to a knot, even a pliant lovely little bitch like Dean was greedy for it, needed it. And it was okay. He didn't mind it one bit. John loved it, knowing that he was needed, that he was so essential to Dean's pleasure. He caught his breath a little, then tested the tie by trying to pull back. He was caught, trapped inside Dean, right where he wanted, no, needed to be.

"My Alpha," Dean said, still simmering with pleasure. 

"My bitch," John said. Then he addressed himself to the crowd, suddenly aware that they were there again. "The tie is complete. He's mine."

 

END (of The Claiming of Dean Winchester)

 

 

***

 

The Claiming of Sam Winchester.

 

Sam watched his Daddy fuck Dean. Not just fuck him, but pound into him as if by sheer force, he could make them into one body. It wasn't that Sam had never seen John fuck Dean before. There was that one night not long ago where'd he'd snuck downstairs and found his proof that something was going on between his Dad and his brother. And he'd come in to their bedroom before, found them tied together. But he'd never seen anything quite like this, the intensity of Daddy, the still, trusting way that Dean let John pleasure him. It made Sam uncomfortable, and aroused. His little cock was standing hard and stiff in his pants and he wondered if it was normal to feel this way, so turned on, but with this gnawing in his heart. 

He must have been making little sounds of frustration without realizing it, because Mr. Darvish whispered in his ear, "Shhh, I know. No need to be jealous. That'll be you there under John before you know it."

"Two years!" Sam muttered in despair. That was forever. One sixth of his life, actually. 

Mr. Darvish chuckled a little. "Oh, you sweet little thing," he said. "I've seen how he looks at you and even if he didn't, there isn't an Alpha alive with willpower enough to resist an Omega like you. You'll be there on that platform with John's cock swelled up inside you before the winter is up. I'm certain of it. Probably before Christmas."

"You don't know my Daddy very well," Sam said. "When he says something, he means it. He means two years and it'll be two full years."

"Maybe not, but I know Omegas. A sweet little bitch like Dean, he'll make your Daddy happy, but an Alpha, no matter how settled, will always burn with lust for a minx like you. He might tell himself that he's being good or noble by making himself wait until you're older. Truth is, he wants your pussy so bad that it feels wrong to him, just because he wants it so much."

It was wrong, Sam thought. By any objective standard, what Sam and his Daddy wanted from each other was wrong. Daddy wasn't just his Daddy, he was his real, genetic father. They'd always have to hide that from the world. It would always be and problems and he didn't know that there was anything he could do to have it just not be a problem. He'd wanted his Daddy, for as long as he could remember and wanted him in certain, specific ways ever since he'd seen Daddy pounding into Dean that night on the sofa. Sam's pussy was very insistent on that front. It wanted Daddy's cock in it. He wanted cock, in general, most of the time too, and had for a while, but the general want seemed to have faded ever since this specific want had come to his awareness. 

"If he wants me so bad, why won't he take me?" Sam whined. 

"He will, sweetie, and soon," Mr. Darvish said. "Time to go up and test the tie."

In the time they'd been talking, Daddy had growled as he came, slumped a little onto his hands, supporting himself up off Dean's belly just barely. He'd come and he'd tied himself into Dean's pussy. They'd be joined together for a while yet, but the ceremony proper would be over, just as soon as they were pronounced joined. Mr. Darvish nudged Sam off his lap, then gave him a slap on the rear as soon as Sam was standing. It didn't hurt, really, just tingled a little and made his hard on twitch a little. They walked up to the platform. Sam's hard on bobbed uncomfortably when he walked and he wondered when it'd be possible for him to sneak away and jerk off, just to relieve it. 

Sam wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He'd just made his grab for the wreath because supposedly the boy that caught it was going to get claimed next. He hadn't known he'd have to do this part until Verna told him afterwards. 

"Kneel on the bed, Sam, and grab Dean's hands," Jessamyn told him. "Hold on tight. I'll help you. Lyle is going to do his best to separate them."

So Sam knelt in front of Dean, who looked stupidly, blissfully happy. So happy that for a moment, Sam wanted to spit in his eye and stomp away, because Dean had what Sammy wanted so very dearly- Daddy's knot, sunk deeply in him. But Sam was also, oddly, very deeply happy too. It was like his heart alternated between floating on wings and being locked up in a spiky iron cage. He loved Dean. He wanted Dean to get what Dean needed and what Dean needed was just exactly this. How could two such different emotions exist inside of him at the same time? Without his head exploding? Actually, his head felt like it was on the verge of exploding.

Sam leaned over and quickly kissed him on the lips. It was a funny kind of angle, their head upside down to each other. Sam had meant it to be a quick kiss anyway, but Dean turned it into something else, opening his mouth like he was asking to be kissed deeply and thoroughly, so Sam did that, moaning a little as Dean allowed him to sweep his tongue against his teeth. When Sam looked up, Daddy was looking at the two of them kissing, lustfully, as if he were considering new possibilities. 

"I love you, Dean," Sam said and he meant it. 

"I love you too, twerp,"

"Bitch," Sam said.

"But not your bitch, Sammy. Here, I think you're supposed to hold my hands," Dean said, offering them. Sammy held on to Dean's left hand with both of his, and Jessamyn took Dean's right hand with both of hers. Then Mr. Darvish got behind Daddy, grabbed him by the waist and pulled, Sam held on to Dean for dear life, but both he and Jessamyn were dragged a few feet across the platform. Dean was whimpering, even crying a little, but it was all over super soon.

Mr. Darvish let go of Daddy's waist and said, "They're well and truly tied. Do you all concur?"

Verna, Jessamyn and Sam had to answer yes, each in turn. 

"Well, that was painful and embarrassing," Dean said, to no one in particular. He seemed grateful when they were left alone. From the corner of Sam's eye as he was led away, he could see Dean and Dad shifting, carefully manipulating limbs and turning, so that instead of being joined sort of face to face, Dad standing, Dean at the edge of the platform, they were both lying on the platform, spooning. They were allowed to cover up with blankets and left alone for the rest of the duration of their tie. They seemed so happy together, so in love. He wanted more than anything to dive into that bed with them, under the covers and snuggle up with them. He wouldn't do that though. He couldn't embarrass them.

Jessamyn led Sam to the small table where the big piece of paper, a fancy looking document, waited. They each signed it and then that was it. Daddy and Dean were considered married by the State of Utah. Then Verna was calling out to the crowed, "Party time, folks!"

It was a potluck kind of party. People went out to their cars and brought out big casserole dishes, mostly things that seemed to involve cheese in some way, shape or form. Ten different people had brought a cheesy potato casserole almost like the one Sam had eaten at the Darvishes' last night. Big thermoses of coffee and other hot drinks were brought out. One of the long bench seats served as a table and people ate with dishes balanced on their knees. Someone started playing music from a portable stereo system and there was, even though it was only mid morning by now, dancing in the open area by the platform, not ten feet away from where Dad and Dean were still wrapped up in each other, not exactly forgotten at their own wedding, but being given a kind of privacy in the way that they were willfully ignored as they snuggled through the duration of the tie, did whatever else you did while tied together. Daddy was probably making Dean come, even now.

Sam should have been starving. He hadn't eaten since last night. They'd gotten up too late to eat and get to the claiming on time. But Sam couldn't convince himself that he was hungry enough to even get up and get a plate of food. Jessamyn saw he wasn't eating and she sent one of her older kids to get him a plate with a bit of everything. Sam poked at it, didn't put so much as a bite in his mouth. He was sure that anything he tried would turn to sawdust in his mouth, or failing that, a stone in his belly. He ended up putting his plate to the side, untouched more or less. Mr. Darvish noticed and he stood up, putting his plate to the side too. Jessamyn saw what what going on and she looked worried.

"Lyle, it's normal he's upset," she said. "Don't make it worse."

"Just going to have a word with the boy about his attitude."

Mr. Darvish grabbed Sam, threw Sam over his shoulder like he was a sack of potatoes or something. He started walking away from the party. At first, Sam was too shocked to do anything. He could hardly believe this was happening. That he was just being manhandled like he was a toddler having a tantrum. Was he really being given a time out? Because from what Sam could see, Mr. Darvish was carrying him towards the parking lot and Sam thought he was being taken to the car, hopefully to be taken home where he could get over what even he knew was a bad case of the sulks in private. 

He wasn't being taken to the car though. Instead, there was a wooded area, another part of the park. It wasn't a forest though, but some kind of wooded garden. It was groomed, manicured, with a paved path through it. It was obviously designed with privacy in mind though. There were lots of twists to the path, lots of walled areas. There were a few places where benches were in the open, next to the path but a lot more areas where the benches were hidden off the main path, maybe in the middle of a bunch of shrubs. 

It was a park designed for use after the claiming ceremony, by the guests. Some of them got a little...excited. They came across a Beta couple. Even though it was pretty darn cold, they'd slipped down their pants and the man was fucking the woman, right out in the open They were leaning against one of the walls as the man thrust into the woman, again and again.

"Arnold, Ina," Mr. Darvish called out as they passed. Ina turned to look at them, waved a little, but her man just kept thrusting into her. 

For a little while, Sam thought maybe Mr. Darvish was bringing him here to 'take care of his needs" like Dad had told him to. Once they'd reached a more isolated part of the woods, near a park bench that was hidden a group of trees, Mr. Darvish set Sam down.

"Drop your pants, Sammy," Mr. Darvish said, firmly. "You're acting like a pill. It'll ruin the day for your Daddy and his bitch, so I'm going to give you a good twenty of my best to adjust your attitude. Maybe more if you need them." 

Twenty of his best of what? Dean wondered for a moment, before he realized what Mr. Darvish was talking about. "You are so not spanking me," he said, putting his hands behind his back, trying to cover up his ass. 

"Who said you get a say?" Mr. Darvish asked. "Anyway, I think you'll feel better for a chance to scream and shout about something. You're wanting to scream and shout about how your Daddy is putting his cock in someone else's pussy. You can't say anything, because it's your brother and you love your brother and your Daddy loves him too and this is their wedding day. You'll be able to curse and cry bloody murder at this though. You'll feel a lot better when I'm done. I promise."

"My Daddy would never let you spank me," Sam said, still not believing this was happening. "He's never hit me once."

"I asked him specifically and he said it was fine," Mr. Darvish said. "He said maybe it was just what you needed, to help with some of your particular frustration. Like I said, you need a chance to scream bloody murder at something and I can stand it to be me."

Sam still balked, but he found himself being manhandled by Mr. Darvish, his coat taken off, his pants yanked down. He was laid over Mr. Darvish's lap and held firmly in place, just by the one hand in the middle of his back. There was no doubt that Mr. Darvish could keep him there with just the one hand. He was just that much bigger and stronger. Sam struggled, tried to roll off Mr. Darvish's lap, tried to kick him. Mr. Darvish just chuckled a little. 

"Now, lie still and act like a good little bitch for once in your life," Mr. Darvish said. "Oh, I know you aren't one, but you can act like one sometimes, just for a little while."

Sam's dick throbbed and grew even harder. His erection, despite the humiliation of this position, was not going limp in the slightest. If anything, it was getting worse. Sam wanted his Daddy, not Mr. Darvish, but he wasn't going to get his Daddy today and his body was not so helpful pointing out that this was an Alpha he was on the lap of. A strong, potent Alpha, with an erection that was answering his. Sam became suddenly aware of Mr. Darvish's erection, right under his own, bare cock. He smelled pretty good, Mr. Darvish did and his body felt hot under his clothes, even though the rest of Sam was getting pretty cold, especially his ass which was hanging out in the open, completely bare. Sam stopped struggling and, half hoping he could distract Mr. Darvish into forgetting the impending spanking, he started humping against the man's erection. It felt amazing, to rub his little cock against the rough denim of Mr. Darvish's jeans.

That was the point where the spanking started. Mr. Darvish's hand came down on Sam's ass, heavy, loud, right on the apex of Sam's left but cheek. It burned. It stung. It hurt so bad that Sam tried to leap off of Mr. Darvish. The man's arm kept him pinned into place and all Sam could do was flail his limbs, struggle against him and shout.

"Fuck you!" he screamed and was rewarded with another slap to the rear, right on the same spot as the first and it hurt so much that all Sam could do was holler wordlessly. 

"Stop! Stop it!" he shouted, after the third spank, when he'd finally caught his breath again. Mr. Darvish's hand came down again, then again, each blow more relentless than the last. By the tenth blow, tears were running down Sam's face, but they were angry tears and Sam kept shouting, "Stop it! Stop it, damn you. I hate you. I hate this. Stop it. Stop it. Why won't you stop?" and so on, and on, until he was screaming about why wasn't his Daddy stopping this, and he hated his Daddy and everything, not even really knowing what he said or why, just that it felt good to get it all out. 

But it had gone on several minutes already and it wasn't going to stop, not until Mr. Darvish was good and ready. That much was clear and thought it hurt like crazy, hurt not quite like anything Sam had ever felt before, he wasn't sure he wanted it to end, either. Because each spank, each blow was driving his cock against Mr. Darvish's denim covered cock and that, somehow, even though it didn't make any logical sense, still felt amazing, kept making him want to drag and rub himself against something, anything. How could two things, so opposite each other, somehow add to each other, rather than distract from each other. Mr. Darvish seemed to realize what was happening, because he thrust his hips up with each blow, allowing Sam to get a better friction. Then, suddenly, the pleasure grew bigger than the pain somehow and he was bellowing still, and he couldn't tell anymore where the pain stopped and the good started, just that they both seemed to be one bigger thing that took hold of his body and sent electrical shocks up and down from head to toe. His balls drew up tight and he seemed to explode somehow, He was coming, not just from his cock, but his pussy was involved somehow and it all felt different than any other time he'd come. It was like everything inside of him was moving and shifting and pulling together impossibly tight inside his pussy. Then he collapsed against Mr. Darvish, feeling utterly limp and boneless. His inner thighs had gotten all wet and he seemed to be lying on damp denim too.

Mr. Darvish said, "Hmmm, I didn't expect that. I'll have to tell your Daddy about that. You feel better, Sammy?"

Sam nodded. He felt all tired out and relaxed, like he was about to drift off to sleep. His pussy was no longer complaining about wanting something in it. He just wanted to cuddle up to something and snuggle up close to something warm. 

"Hey, no falling asleep on me now. You need to get back to the party," Mr. Darvish said, and Sam was lifted onto his feet, where he stood blinking and unsteady in the morning light. 

He was suddenly aware of how much his ass stung still, how it was hot and red and sore. He had the urge to go sit down in a snowbank, to cool it off and he grabbed a handful of snow just to see how it would feel on his butt, if the cold would soothe it or if it would be too much. Mr. Darvish caught him at it though and before Sam could even touch the snow to his ass, he said, "I think we'll be leaving your butt as is, to let that glow remind you of why I brought you out here in the first place."

Sam's pants were yanked back up over his stinging ass and Mr. Darvish gave him a slap on the ass, over the pants, for good measure and pointed him in the direction of the party. The front of Mr. Darvish's jeans had come on them, and they were kind of damp, from the slick that had come from Sam's pussy. Luckily, Mr. Darvish's parka was kind of long and so long as he was standing, it covered the stains Sam had made. 

"What happened? Why'd I come?" Sam asked. He was truly puzzled. The spanking, it was awful. Even now, he wasn't sure he'd be able to sit back down, once they got to the party. But there was no doubt he'd come from rubbing himself on Mr. Darvish, despite the spanking.

"Oh, sweet, little slutty Sammy," Mr. Darvish said. "Sometimes, the pain gets good when you least expect it to. And I think there's a lot more of the bitch in you than you want to admit. You've seen your Daddy spank Dean before, right?"

Sam nodded. It was just the once, that night when he was watching on the staircase and they weren't aware he was there. Since then, he'd been allowed in their bed a little. Daddy might suck him off while fucking Dean, but he hadn't seen anything else as intense as that first time had been.

"Did you ask your Daddy why he spanks Dean?"

"He said Dean likes it when he does it, but I don't see how he could. Dean was crying and screaming and yelling."

Sam paused. Just like he had been.

"You know, a good three, four weeks with me, I could probably have you shaped up into the sweetest-tempered little bitch anyone has ever seen," Mr. Darvish said. "The best bitches are the ones you have to tame first."

It was a statement that went right to the pit of Sam's stomach and curled around in it like a big ball of barbed wire. Every bit of relaxed feeling, every bit of peacefulness that coming had given him, it was all gone. 

"I am never going to be a bitch," Sam said and he ran back to the party, back through the winding path. He could see that if he cut through the woods to the left, he could cut off a big part of the distance, that the path had been wound through the trees deliberately drawing out the distance between here and the pavilion. As he ran through the trees though, he came across some of the people making use of the woods for what it was designed for. He saw Kevin and Early, some people from down the block, making use of a sleeping bag tucked into a nook between a stone wall and some trees. He really could have done without the sight of the sleeping bag rippling quite like that and the sound of Early coming, which was a little like the sound the hyena had made once when Sam had been to the zoo. Then there was the Millwards, Jenilee from school's parents, pawing at each other in this pergola thing that was mostly, but not entirely covered by ivy. Did seeing the knotting between Dad and Dean make everyone horny? So horny they couldn't wait until they got home?

He ran into the pavilion and found Jessamyn before he realized what a mess he must still look, with his face flushed and tears still on his cheeks. Probably his nose was running and snotty, like some little kids. Jessamyn pressed her lips together angrily when she saw him though the look she gave him was soft and warm. She wasn't angry at him, he could tell. 

"Are you okay, Sam?" she asked. "Where's your coat?"

He didn't even really have the words to tell her about what had happened, what had scared him like that. He knew he was being a whiner and like some little kid, but he didn't care. And he knew that he was going against the instructions that Daddy had given him. He didn't care. There was no way Mr. Darvish was going to make a bitch out of him, not ever. 

"Can I go someplace else for a few days? Not home with you? I don't think I'm okay with it right now."

"Of course, Sam. I'll sent you home with Verna. She won't mind. I think she's over by the fire. Give me a minute. Here, you're chilled," Jessamyn said. She found a thick blanket from the big pile of them that the Darvishes had brought to the claiming and she draped it over his shoulders, then sat him down on a small pile of them, and draped another one over his lap. She dug in the diaper bag that they always carried with them and pulled out a container of wet wipes. She set to work, cleaning his face like he was a little kid and normally he would have protested, but something in him wanted this right now. When he was cleaned up, she bustled off to find Verna, leaving him alone. 

As if things couldn't get worse, Rory walked up. Sam prepared to hear him snicker when he found Sam cocooned in blankets like he was some baby. Only he didn't. He held out the wreath to Sam. He hadn't even remembered about it, but it must have fallen off his head when Mr. Darvish had dragged him off to the woods for the spanking. 

"I saved it for you," Rory said, and he plunked it right on top of Sam's head again.

"Thanks."

Sam wanted to rip the wreath right off, stomp it under his feet, because this was turning out to be one of the worst days ever and he hated this and he hated everything and he hated Rory's dad for thinking that Sam would ever be that. Except catching the wreath had been one of the good parts of the day and he'd loved going up to the platform and kissing his brother and then holding his hand. And getting to sign the marriage certificate. 

"You know, a lot of the time, I get really angry at Jessamyn," Rory said, sitting himself down next to Sam. "She won't let me spend any time alone with Jim. Won't let me go any place I won't be chaperoned by grown up women. Or she'll make me take some of my younger brothers when Jim and I just go for walks. She doesn't trust me, she treats me like a baby. I really want to be like you. Living with an Alpha. Getting sex."

Sam was about to say something about how it wasn't all it was cracked up to be, but then Dean walked up. Their tie was over, apparently, and they'd gotten up from the platform, gotten dressed and were finally circulating at their party. Dad was over on the other side of the pavilion, in a crowd of Alphas. They were all laughing and smoking cigars. One of the Alphas was pressing a cigar into Dad's hand, lighting it up for him. Dad drew in a big breath of the cigar smoke and blew it out. He looked happier than Sam had ever remembered seeing him. So did Dean.

"Hey, you okay, Sammy?" Dean asked, sounding concerned. He was obviously taking in how Sam was pretty much swaddled up in the blankets, how Sam must have been red eyed and red nosed. Sam thought about telling him. He told Dean everything. But Sam decided maybe it would be okay to just tell Dean later, that he didn't want to ruin Dean's day. This was special for him, and it must have been about the perfect day, because he seemed content, glowing even. 

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam said. "I just got really cold and I can't get warm. Jessamyn's seeing about sending me home early."

"You catching a cold maybe?" Dean asked, then he reached out and touched Sam's forehead, like you would a little kid's, to see if he was feverish. It was one of those little things Dean always did for him, to take care of him. Actually, Sam really was feeling kind of awful, like he couldn't stop shivering and he was glad for Dean's touch. 

"You're not feverish at all. Your skin is kind of really cold to the touch actually. We should set you up right by the fire place," Dean said. "I'm not sure what they were all thinking. An outside party. In the winter."

Dean was about to start fussing even more over Sam, get him moved over to the fire place, when Jessamyn and Verna came up. 

"Sam can't get warm," Dean said to them, first thing. "Even with all those blankets."

"It might be just a little mild hypothermia, Dean," Jessamyn said. "Sam was running around without his coat on for a while and he got chilled. He's probably not used to our Utah winters. He's not in any danger. He'll be fine once we get him warmed up again. Verna will take him home and put him to bed. You go back to your party."

Verna turned to Dean and said, "We've got this all wrapped up. You should visit with your guests. Everyone will want to see you."

With that, suddenly a group of young but claimed Omegas swooped down on Dean. Sam recognized some of them from around the neighborhood. They pulled Dean away and towards the dance floor and he was gone without a second glance back. Soon, after, Sam found himself in the passenger seat of Verna's big old Buick, on the way back to town. He felt better in the full blast of the heater and almost like himself by the time they hit the center of the town. 

Verna had to turn on the window wipers as they drove through the town center. Snow had started up again, sudden, heavy and wet. "Looks like the party won't be lasting much longer anyway," Verna said. "Looks like a big one. Our first serious snow of the season."

"And it hasn't been serious snow until now?" Sam asked. A good three inches had fallen the night before, adding itself atop the three inches from the previous week.

"You've never spent the winter in the mountains, have you?" Verna asked. 

"No, ma'am," he said. It wasn't that they'd avoided winter, but when you could go wherever the hunt took you and you picked your own hunts, that gave you a lot of choice. John had always headed, not exactly south for the winter, but winters often found them in California, or maybe Oklahoma, Tennesee. Someplace where the winter wasn't so bad. They'd spent most of the winter on the gulf coast of Florida one year. 

"Folks can get a little stir crazy in the winter. It's why we were all so glad to have one last chance to get out and have a little party before the winter really hits."

Verna pulled into the driveway of his house, the little two-bedroom place. They'd be moving out soon, Dad had promised, into a bigger place in town. It was a secret, for Dean, so he wasn't supposed to mention that to Dean.

"You go get as much of your stuff as you need," Verna said to him. "If that means, all of it, that's fine, Sam. If you're not fine with that Alpha of yours loaning you out to the neighbor, then you can come stay with me, for as long as it takes. Until you're ready to marry him at fourteen or even never."

Sam startled. How could Verna know?

"This is a very small town, Sam. We are all up in each other's business so far we can see the light from the other end. I'm not even sure it's possible to keep a secret in this town. And I saw Lyle cart you away from the wedding. Whatever he did to you in the grove, it scared you and it scares you that he had John's approval to do it. So, if you want to leave, for a little while, or forever, I'll help you. Vern'll back me up."

Leave Dad? Forever? Because Sam had gotten a little scared about being spanked by Mr. Darvish and being told he was already half a bitch. Dad couldn't have known that would happen, and wouldn't have wanted it to happen that way if he did know. Or maybe he did know? Did he want Sam to become more like Dean? To be obedient and good. To do as he was told and to passively accept what was given to him and want no more than that? Is that why he'd been given over to the care of Mr. Darvish? Because Dad thought Mr. Darvish would be able to tame him? Sam knew that while he ached to have Daddy make love to him like he had Dean, that he even outright hurt from lack of it, that he wasn't anyone's bitch and that he'd just suffocate if he had to be that.

"Okay," Sam said. "For a while. Just until I figure things out."

Even though he'd gotten a few more things, a few more clothes, it wasn't a lot more. If he borrowed Dean's backpack, which had been shoved forgotten into a corner of their closet, he could still fit it all and have everything he owned packed up in minutes, even though he was still moving kind of sluggishly, feeling icky from when he'd gotten chilled. His ass still hurt too. He went to the bathroom, to take a quick look and he didn't see anything unusual, just his regular butt cheeks. They weren't even red or anything. He must have been imagining how bad the spanking was. Exaggerating it to himself. He grabbed his two bags of clothing, then his school bag and he moved out of his father's house for the first time.

 

***

 

It was snowing in earnest by the time John and Dean made it back into town after the wedding. A couple of inches on the road already and the Impala was slipping around, its rear wheel drive not doing so well in the slippery conditions. Thankfully, they were just going back home. Except John didn't head back out of town again to the little house they rented from Verna. He pulled into the driveway of the same house that Dean's pre-wedding party had been in. He couldn't see it that well in the dusk and the thickening snow, but there was no doubt in his mind that it was the same place. It had the same picket fence, same red mailbox on a post just off the street. 

"Why aren't we going home?" Dean asked as John parked the car in the garage on the back of the property. 

"We are home, little bitch," John said. "Our new home, the one on Joy Street that Verna said she would have ready for us. There will be room for all of us here."

They walked around to the front of the house, climbed the steps to the porch. John unlocked the door with a key that looked fresh and new, as if it had just been cut. Then Dean was lifted off his feet, John's arms under knees and around his shoulders, a position Dean could definitely get used to, and he was carried over the threshold and into his new house. 

John set him down for a moment, to lock the door behind them and Dean wandered around the first floor. It'd been cleaned up from after the party, but it was just like he remembered, down to the oddly formal living room furniture, with all those little decorative chairs. 

"Verna's renting it to us furnished, for now," John said. "But we can change it over to our own furniture, as we buy stuff. When we can afford to."

"I think we need to buy a new sofa, right off the bat," Dean said. He was looking at the settee things that stood in for sofas in the room. They were small, stiff looking pieces of furniture, with carved wood trim at the edges, upholstered in a lurid, shiny, hot pink jacquard fabric with lots of tufting and bright brass nailhead trim all around the edges. "I don't think either of us would be very happy if you tried to fuck me on one of those."

"Point taken," John said. "We'll get a sofa first."

As for the rest of the place, it still seemed empty somehow, as if it were a little too quiet, a little too vacant. Maybe it was just that they hadn't settled in yet. it would take a while for him to settle in, for the place to smell right. Then he recognized the source of his mild distress. The house seemed empty except for them because it was. A place just wasn't his home until his brother was in it.

"Where's Sammy?" he asked, realizing he had hardly seen his brother all day, except briefly, once at the pull test, once when he'd been looking so miserable, all wrapped up in blankets, skin so cold and clammy. Verna or Jessamyn had said they were going to take him home after that, right? He realized that shortly after that, he'd gotten wrapped up in things and he hadn't given so much as a thought to Sam. "Someone was supposed to bring him home after the wedding, right?"

"He'll be staying with the Darvishes for a few days," John said. "He'll be fine. More than fine. They've got that Omega the same age as Sam to keep him company."

Dean was, at least mildly, distressed. He felt bad enough that he'd more or less ignored his brother all day at the wedding. Hearing that Sam was staying at the home of his worst school enemy, made Dean feel guilty. Sammy was supposed to come first, always, and today, he'd come about last on Deans's list. 

"Rory? Alpha, I don't mean to question you, but Sam hates Rory and Rory hates Sam. I think Sam's getting bullied at school and Rory is the ring leader. He won't tell me details, but I know he's miserable at school and I know it's due to Rory."

"It's just until after the weekend, Dean," John said, lifting him up again, preparing to carry him up the stairs. "You deserve a few days where you don't have to worry about Sam."

"It's not like it's a chore," Dean said. Actually, it kind of was sometimes, but it was something he didn't mind. 

"Sam will be fine, and you have to stop being his Mommy, Dean. If he thinks he's old enough for me to claim and put a baby in his belly, then he's old enough to go without you for the weekend," John said. "Just don't worry about him."

"He seemed pretty miserable at the wedding."

"Natural jealousy. You have something he wants very badly. He'll get over it and he'll get what he wants someday soon, but for now, he'll just have to handle it. He's being taken care of."

"You're sure he's fine?"

"Certain of it. They'll call if anything goes wrong. Now, hush. We're going upstairs and I'm going to fuck you in our new bed."

"You didn't get enough of me today already?" Dean teased, as he was carried up the stairs. He could get used to it, being carried around like this. 

They'd spent a long time tied together, much longer than they did normally and Alpha had given him so many orgasms that he'd lost count, but he was ready for more. More than that, his tits had gotten full and heavy over the course of the day. He was ready, more than ready, for his Alpha to empty them, relieve the pressure. His Alpha already had that idea. He was carried through to the bedroom that was going to be theirs, dumped on the bed. His Alpha pulled Dean's clothes off, then squeezed Dean's breasts until Dean could feel the prickly, tingly feeling of let down. His milk dripped generously between John's fingers, running down Dean's chest. He was kind of scared about that, sort of. If his milk flowed so much now, still months before his baby was born, then how much would he be producing when she was actually here and sucking on his breasts?

John bent his head to Dean's breasts and then Dean was lost in the sensation of it. It wasn't so much that it felt good, the mouth on his tits. It did though. But it just calmed him down, no matter what he was feeling. His heart beat slower, his breathing deepened and slowed. He felt relaxed, sleepy every time John sucked on him. A sense of well-being pervaded his whole body. It was sleep aid, it was closeness with John. There was an intimacy there between them when John suckled, that he didn't think they'd have any other way. So when John started suckling him this time, Dean didn't think about Sammy, didn't think about how awful he'd looked at the party, how much he looked like a sick kid. He just sighed softly and laid back and let John take what he wanted.

 

***

On Sunday morning, someone knocked on their door. They were finally emerging from being so entangled in each other that nothing else in the world mattered. He'd pretty much dived right into Dean's pussy on Wednesday night and hadn't really gotten out of it until now. They'd spent the last couple of days in bed, emerging long enough only for sheer necessities- the bathroom, food, water. They hadn't even showered in days, so he felt pretty well marinated, and John almost felt inclined not to answer the door. The knock was a loud, insistent rattle that penetrated all the way upstairs to their bedroom. John remembered Verna telling him that the doorbell was broken and this was the knock of someone who'd been trying for a while to be loud enough to alert the inhabitants of the house, no matter where they were in it. John grabbed his robe and headed downstairs, already feeling a bit uneasy. John looked out the side light to the door and it was Lyle standing on his porch, looking nervous. Maybe something was wrong with Sam, seriously wrong, and Lyle didn't want to tell him over the phone. John threw the door open immediately.

"What's wrong with Sam?" he demanded.

"Nothing. Well, not nothing, but he's safe," Lyle said. He shook his head. "I just need to talk to you about what happened before you hear it from from people who weren't even there. I screwed up. I'm man enough to admit it when I have."

"You'd better step inside then," John said, wondering what the hell this could be about. How did Lyle screw up and when? He'd trusted his son to this man, his Sam, the Omega that would one day be his.

There was the sound of Dean on the steps, cautiously making his way down a step at a time. These steps were at a slightly different incline than the steps at the place they'd been staying and Dean wasn't quite used to them yet. Despite his running at the claiming, Dean still wasn't fully comfortable with his pregnant belly and so, he was cautious about stairs.

"Should I come down, Alpha?" Dean asked, pausing a few steps down.

"No, it's just Lyle. This is Alpha business. Why don't you go take a shower, Little Bitch? I should be up soon."

Dean turned around and went back up the stairs, more steady on his feet now that he wasn't heading down the stairs. John ushered Lyle into the house and through to the study, their spare room on the first floor. Right now, it was pretty empty, with mostly empty shelves lining the walls. He could finally retrieve some of his books of lore and magic from his storage locker, but even they would only take up three or four of the shelves. There was a fireplace in the room, a working one, Verna had said, and there were two armchairs, comfortable ones, not little made of tinder ones like the ones in the living room. They each took one of the chairs. 

"Speak. What did you do to my Omega?" John demanded. It had been something bad. The man stank of flopsweat. He'd obviously dreaded coming here to tell him this, whatever it was.

"I pushed him too hard, John. I didn't mean to, but I did. I asked if I could spank him, if I thought it needful and you said yes. At the claiming, I thought it needful and I did spank him. He howled like a banshee."

John, who had once heard the howl of a banshee, or more exactly, a bean-sith, and lived to tell the tale, thought that probably had to be an exaggeration. Someone almost always ended up dead when the howl of a banshee was heard. The Men of Letters were terribly precise in their spell work and wards, but John knew far more about supernatural creatures than any ten of them did. Most of them wouldn't be able to tell you the difference between a kelpie and a selkie.

"So, you punished Sam and he hated it. That doesn't surprise me."

"Not exactly a punishment. He didn't just scream. He came like he probably never came before in his life. Like, his pussy gushed. Ejaculation, but not from his cock."

"Again, not a surprise that an Omega would get off from that. Did it scare him, coming from the pain?"

"Not as much as you would think. Look, I saw something in him at that moment. There's part of Sam that wants to be taken in hand and be made to be a good little bitch for his Alpha. There's part of him that is just dying to have that done onto him. He's a minx and a slut, but there is something in him that needs to be tamed. I told him that and it scared the crap out of him. I told him I could be the one to do it. I shouldn't have done that. I overstepped."

"That's right, you shouldn't have," John said, feeling cold anger at the thought of his gorgeously willful, cheerfully slutty, needy little boy being tamed. It was one thing for Dean to be his bitch. That was what Dean wanted, that was Dean's nature. John hadn't asked for it or demanded it. It had been given freely and it was cherished. In the same way, John cherished Sam as he was. "He's my boy. Don't you think I can see that in him? That I saw it long before you did? He could easily be my bitch, but I don't want Sam to be tamed and I never will. I think you should bring Sam home now."

Lyle did a double take, got a funny look on his face. "Nobody called you? Sam's not at my house. He went home with Verna, been there since Wednesday afternoon. I gather he's been kind of sick ever since. Caught himself a devil of a cold or something. Wasn't back to school on Thursday or Friday."

That caught John's attention, more than anything. Sam didn't get sick, not since he was a wee little boy. His health was almost ridiculously good. He'd been known to play sick before, to get out of a day of school, but he'd never, to John's knowledge, missed two days of school in a row, except when they were traveling. 

"No, no one called us," John said. "We've been occupied, but I would have answered my phone if Verna or you called. My phone was on the bedside table the whole time. You'd best go, Lyle."

"I'll make this up to you, John," Lyle said. "Like I said, I'm man enough to know when I've screwed the pooch and this is one of those times. Whatever you think fitting, let me know."

"You don't have to make it up to me, Lyle," John said. "You have to make this up to Sam."

"Whoever heard of an Alpha apologizing to an Omega?"

"Me, hearing it from you, if you expect us to remain friends. I trusted you to take care of him, and I told you Sam wasn't anyone's bitch." 

John could see the internal struggle in Lyle's face. He understood. An Alpha like Lyle didn't think twice, normally, about just doing what he wanted, when he wanted, to the Omegas he thought of as his. He was the kind of Alpha that would only ever have a bitch for a mate and he wouldn't be able to see just what John truly saw in an Omega like Sam and no, it wasn't just the sex that John wanted Sam for.

There was more here than just a friendship at stake, though John had valued Lyle for that. They were both Men of Letters now and a soured friendship could follow them into the meeting Hall ruin whole chains of relationships. John hoped that Lyle would understand and could put aside his feelings about Alphas and Omegas for this. Because John wasn't about to back down. His boys were more important to him than any friendship he'd found thus far in this town.

Lyle nodded, then said, "Fair enough. If that's your price of forgiveness. You go get your boy from Verna's now. Call me when he's well enough and I'll come by and make my amends to him."

It'd have to do. Obviously, Lyle saw himself as saying the words to Sam, but giving the actual apology to John. It was a start and you couldn't expect a sea change in a man right away in the way he'd always treated Omegas. 

"I'll call," John said, then he saw Lyle out. He went upstairs to throw some clothes on, not bothering to shower, though he really should have. But Sam needed to come home now. He should have checked up and seen how the boy was doing on Thursday. He'd been selfish. Yes, the time spent with his newly claimed Omega was important, but he had two Omegas. 

Dean came in, rubbing his hair with a towel, otherwise naked. "What'd Lyle want?"

"Alpha business," John said. Dean didn't need to know this, how much he'd misjudged the man and let the man hurt Sam. "I'm going to go get Sam right now. I guess he ended up at Verna's, sick with a cold after the claiming."

"I'll get dressed and come with," Dean said, smiling and obviously looking forward to seeing his brother again. 

"No, you stay here," John said. He was pretty sure that it wouldn't be as simple as just picking the boy up. This was, after all, a kid who had run away for two weeks once, just because he was unhappy they'd changed schools, again. 

"Look, I haven't picked out a bedroom for Sam yet. Why don't you do that, and see if there's anything you can do to make it more comfortable for him. Lyle says it's a pretty bad cold. He'll need his rest."

Dean's happy, content face clouded over and John could just about see Dean heap the metaphoric coals on his own head. "I knew something was wrong with him at the claiming," Dean said. "I knew he was coming down with something, and I let myself get distracted and pulled away. I put my own good time ahead of what he needed. He probably hates me now. I have everything he wants and I can't even be bothered to see how he's doing for three days."

"Little Bitch," John said, his voice low and steady, so that Dean would know that though John wasn't angry now, Dean needed to stop what he was doing right now. "Make his room ready for him. I can promise you that he doesn't hate you and he never will. You'll have plenty of time to make those three days up to him. We'll keep him at home for a week, maybe more if he needs it. Are things really as bad for him in school as you say?"

"I think they might be worse. This might be the worst school yet."

"We'll see that it works out," John promised. "Maybe we should pull him out completely. I know some families in town home school."

"It would have helped if you'd let him be circumcised when he was a baby," Dean said. 

"What?"

"In school," Dean said. "He has gym class in this school. They shower afterwards and the whole school knows that he's not cut. He's always the only Omega in the whole school with an uncut dick. People say things. A lot of other states we lived in, they didn't make Omegas take gym, so no one knew, but here they know and they say things. Worse things than they said about me when I was unclaimed and pregnant."

"I admit, I made mistakes raising you two. Dressing you like Betas, raising you as Betas. Not having a settled home for you two. I made a hundred mistakes raising him, but not circumcising him isn't one. If I could go back in time and stop it, I wouldn't let them do it to you, either. Mary had me convinced it was for the best, but when I saw this beautiful and helpless baby scream as they did it, I knew it was wrong. Look, I'm going to go get Sam now. Make sure he has some place comfortable to lie down when we get here."

John had never wanted anything but what was best for his boys. He made mistakes sometimes, but he was sure he could fix this. 

Which was why, when he was on Verna's doorstep, less than five minutes later and she wasn't even letting him in the house to talk to Sam, he wanted to punch her, even though she was a fat, harmless old lady who'd been nothing but kindness itself to him and his boys.

"He's sick," she said. "Listen to him."

Sam must have been in the next room, because John could hear the hacking, rasping cough quite clearly. His little boy was decidedly sick and John needed to bring him home, where he could be cared for. He explained that, quite calmly, he thought, to Verna. 

"Some nerve you've got, Winchester," she said. "You say you're thinking only of him, but give your buddy permission to do what he wants to the boy while you're gone. Don't tell me about these needs an Omega has. I don't want to hear it. Whatever Lyle Darvish did to the boy, it scared him right to his core and Darvish apparently had your permission to do it. So you wait until and if Sam feels ready to come home to you."

"There was a misunderstanding," John said. "Darvish stepped over bounds he knew were there."

It was at this point that Vern stepped out onto his porch. Vern and Verna lived in matching houses, side by side, separated only by a shared driveway, little white, clapboard houses with porches that had swings on them. Vern's current house wasn't the one he'd raised his family in. That he'd since sold to Verna for a rental property. It was the house on Joy St. actually. 

Vern listened to John argue with Verna for a moment, then said, "John, a word with you."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't a suggestion. It was an order. People always said that Alphas didn't have rankings, that each was his own man. That an Alpha might obey the law, the government, or his church, but an Alpha answered to no other single man. That was a load of garbage, John knew. It was subtle. You had to watch for it in other Alphas to see who they looked to, where they saw authority. Usually, it ended up being the obvious characters in someone's life- a father, an older brother, a teacher or an employer. But you knew it instantly in yourself who you looked to. Everyone had someone. For John, it'd been a Sargent in the Corps, and after that, the man who first hired him as a mechanic. For a while, he'd thought it might be Bobby, but the older hunter hadn't picked up the other end of those reins, then John had finally figured out the man wasn't Alpha, though he gave a damn good impression of one. For John now, it was Vern.

"Yes, sir," John said, and turned away from Verna. She shut the door on his back, leaving him to her brother to deal with. 

Vern brought him into his living room. Sat him down in one of those flimsy carved wood Victorian side chairs that Verna seemed to favor. This house had obviously been furnished by her as well. Went to go get him coffee. Left him hanging on tenterhooks, perched gingerly on the edge of a chair he was pretty sure he'd crush from his sheer weight if he wasn't careful. Then, coffee mug handed off to John, Vern went to go sit in a huge beige recliner that sat shamelessly amidst the sea of mauve furniture. No, sat above it all, almost, as if it were a kind of throne. 

"Now, you know it's not my place to tell you how to manage your little family," Vern said. Actually, it was exactly his place. John wouldn't hear it from anyone else. "But you're a good man and a good friend and it pains me to see you making a dog's breakfast of it."

John hadn't really thought he'd been doing that badly until about half an hour ago, when Lyle had first come by. He didn't say anything though. He just nodded.

"If this were just about any other state, except Nevada, Wyoming, a few other states, you'dh've just put Sammy out of your mind. You couldn't have him and Dean at the same time. The law says one Alpha, one Omega. You'd probably be looking for the Alpha to marry Sammy off to right now, if you were in Maine instead of here. But you come here and you can have him too. It's probably feels like Christmas to you."

"That it did," John admitted. He loved both his boys, so much, for different reasons. 

"And even better is our local custom of a little wife-swapping between friends. The sort of thing everyone knows happens in secret among Alphas and Omegas everywhere. Here, it's talked about, it's even encouraged, considered to be a way to bond with your Alpha brothers. No doubt, at Lyle's invitation, you were invited to discover just how talented Jessamyn is with that pussy of hers and having had a Beta wife once, maybe you miss having a woman. So you put Sammy on the offer in return."

"It wasn't that way," John said. It was Peter who'd knelt down before him, given him a blow job one night while they were watching the game together. As for Sammy and Lyle, Sammy had had a good time. John had seen it. Sammy smiled huge when he'd been given a chance to suck cock. It wasn't just something he'd done because he'd been asked. He was hoping he'd be asked to do it. If that fool Lyle hadn't threatened to turn Sam into his bitch, they'd all be fine now.

"Whichever way it was, you put the wrong boy on offer. You haven't claimed Sammy yet, not even in private, far as I can tell. He's not yours to give that way."

John wanted to say that Vern was wrong, that Sammy was his, had been his for years. But that wasn't true. In some senses, it was true. In his heart, Sammy was his, but by the rules, Vern was right. He hadn't claimed Sam, so Sam didn't belong to him in that sense. Because they had established themselves, by deceit, as not related in this community, the only connection John had with Sammy, legally, was that Sammy was his claimed mate's brother. Everyone treated John as if he were Sam's legal guardian, but the fact was, technically, it was Dean who was Sam's legal guardian at the moment. Until John claimed Sam, he had only this tenuous legal connection to him.

"We think it best, Verna and me, if Sam stays here with her, until he wants to go home on his own." 

And because Vern had said it, it was so. He'd gained Dean on Wednesday, but in his carelessness, he'd lost Sam the same day. Hopefully, not for long. Sam would want to come home to them, wouldn't he?

Vern added, "I think he should stay until you're ready for the full responsibility of claiming him and you should make it soon, lest someone else find a way to do it instead."

"He's too young for that," John said. "A baby at his age. He's still so small. I want him to grow more before I do that."

"You can claim him without putting a baby in him, John," Vern said. "There are ways and you know that."

Yeah, there were ways. But the birth control pills would shut down Sam's growth just as surely as a baby would. Omega hormones were more difficult to manipulate than Beta female hormones and the health consequences were similarly worse. That left condoms every time. Not to sound like a whiny kid, but he was not going to be using condoms every time he bedded his claimed mate. They stopped the knot from forming. It was a hormone found only in the Omega's cunt that triggered the knot. You didn't get the knot if Alpha's cock couldn't touch the inside of the Omega's pussy. Sam wouldn't be claimed unless they were tied.

"I know what you're thinking. How can you claim the boy wearing a jimmy hat?" Vern said. "There are things that can be done. And even if there aren't, won't be the first time an Omega that small started popping out babies. Look at how short Peter is. My Emil never did reach five feet."

"Dean's near six feet," John said. "Sam has the potential to grow a lot in just a few short years."

"You do like them tall," Vern said, then he sipped his coffee for the first time. "Way I see it, son, is you've just assumed it would be best for Sammy to be yours, just because you want it, and because he's been there and because he says he wants it. What you need to do is court him like any other Omega. Let other Alphas have a chance to court him. Your claim will be the stronger for it."

"He's not just any Omega," John said.

"I know. He's a boy you raised up as if he were your own. Goes against every grain you got to let him go now on the hopes you can get him back, but trust me, you'll both be happier for it in the end."

***

Dean had picked the room to the left of the master bedroom. When the big old house had last renovated, a 'Jack and Jill" style bathroom had been added between this room and the master bedroom, so Sam could come and go between the rooms easily. He'd be close, but not too close. Dean was pretty sure Sam would spend a lot of the nights coming up in the bed with him and John, but if he was sick, then he'd definitely want a bed on his own. Another good reason to pick this room. It had a double bed. The other two bedrooms available both had twin beds. There would be nights coming up where John would want to sleep with Sammy, alone. Dean, despite the fact that he should be completely fucked out after his last three days, felt a little flustered thinking about that, felt himself get aroused. Shouldn't you feel jealousy when you thought about your new husband sleeping in someone else's bed, rather than turned on?

Digging through the linen closet that Verna had left for him, Dean didn't really find anything he thought Sam would like. There were some white sheets that would do, but most of the blankets were puffy floraly comforter things that looked like something an old lady would pick out, or rather, exactly like what Verna would pick out. Then Dean remembered his pile of wedding gifts from the shower. He'd been given bedding, among many other things. Someone had piled all the presents from that shower into the smallest bedroom. He dug through the pile until he found the comforter he was looking for. It was all black, puffy and warm, but not too girly at all, until you noticed that there was a very subtle pattern woven into the cloth itself. And, being a puffy comforter, there was no way John could demand things like beds you could bounce quarters off of, perfect hospital corners, that sort of thing. It'd be easy for a pregnant person to make that bed, because despite what John had said about making Sammy wait until fourteen to be claimed, it seemed pretty clear that now that John had a taste of claimed sex, he was going to want it with Sammy, sooner, rather than later. If Dean could have placed a bet, he'd definitely bet that Sammy would be sporting a baby bump at least as far along as his by this time next year. 

Dean got the room all set up and started wondering just what was taking so long. Verna's was just a couple of blocks away from here. If it was just a matter of picking up Sam, they should have been back long ago. Dean distracted himself by working. He sorted through the linen closet. Bagged up everything that was going back to Verna, on the grounds of it being too pink. Unwrapped, unboxed, all his shower presents. Started writing out thank you notes for them. Someone had made it really easy for him. They'd printed out computer labels with the addresses of the people who'd attended, stuck one on each envelope, then written, in pencil on the envelope which gift they'd given. 

By the time that was done and there was no sign of either John or Sammy, Dean started to panic a little. He called John's phone to discover that it'd been left behind on the bedside table. He was about to call Verna's house when the door opened. Dean headed downstairs, fast as he could, ready to take Sam in his arms, take him up to his new bedroom and tuck him in. Except, only John walked into the house. John looking defeated somehow. 

"Where's Sammy?" Dean demanded. 

"He's staying with Verna for a while, I guess," John said. "I don't know how long."

"What do you mean? Staying with Verna? You can't just decide this kind of thing on your own. Anything else, yes, but not this. You always told me, it's my job to watch out for Sam and I always did. I'm his mom, pretty much, and I don't get a vote when you decide you don't want Sam here? That you're just going to kick him out because you got what you wanted out of me."

"Little Bitch, please, I didn't decide. Sam did. He wants to stay there."

"Don't you call me that right now. He wouldn't say that. He wouldn't do that," Dean said, and he started scrambling for clothes. Most of his stuff had obviously not been moved in to the new place just yet, but he found a pair of sweat pants he could pull on, a t-shirt that pulled pretty tightly, but covered him, and his old leather coat, the one that used to belong to John, and he was good enough. He shoved his feet into the first pair of boots he came across- John's good boots. They fit his pregnancy swollen feet perfectly. 

"Dean, I want Sam here as much as you do, but if he doesn't want to be here, then I can't make him."

Dean didn't wait to answer John. He just stormed out of the house, fast as he could, only realizing after he left the house that he didn't have a hat, a scarf, any of that, and the wind was whipping up pretty fierce. It looked like it was fixing to snow again, with heavy, battleship gray clouds lying low in the sky, gathering over the mountains. Looking like mountains in the sky overhead of the mountains themselves. The first wet flakes landed on his eyelashes as he reached the block where the Stamoses lived in their two little houses side by side to each other. 

When he'd been a little boy, that was kind of how he'd always pictured him and Sam living. Himself married to Dad, of course, Sam married to some nebulously pictured guy who was, honestly, in his mind, a lot like Dad. But in houses side by side, so close they could holler out the window at each other and climb across from window to window on a plank or something, if they needed each other late at night. It was a childish fantasy, of course, but he liked the way Vern and Verna were so close to each other, while being allowed some space. And who knew, maybe if Verna had a nightmare, maybe Vern could still hear her and just walk the fifteen feet from his back door to hers?

Dean knocked on Verna's door. She opened the door and let him in but didn't invite him in any further than her hallway. "Dean, sweetie, you should be back home with your husband," she said. "You're still on your honeymoon."

"I just need to talk to him. I just need to see him, Verna," he said, and then he was crying in that hormone induced way he hadn't been lately, not since John had started taking care of him and giving him what he'd truly needed. 

"I'll see if he's up for a visitor. He really is poorly," she said. She didn't comment on his tears, but she did hand him a box of tissue covered with crocheted pink cosy. He wiped his eyes on one of the tissues, but ditched the cosy covered box on the available table. "Come on in. He's in my rec room."

Verna led him through the house, through a living room that was furnished a lot like the one in the house on Joy St., only more so, with fancy little shelving units that were covered with little porcelain figurines and floral wall paper. Thankfully, they were through there past the dining room and into the kitchen before long. Before he even crossed the kitchen, Dean could hear Sam's cough, deep and chesty, but kind of dry. Poor kid really had got himself sick at the claiming ceremony.

"Dean, do you know, did Sam ever get his pertussis vaccinations?"

"That's whooping cough, right? One of those they give babies. If it is, I don't know. I wasn't really taking care of those things at that age yet. Our mom was still alive then. I made sure John took us to the health department and got all our school age shots, but I don't know about the baby shots."

"You shouldn't have had to worry about those things anyways. Not when you were still a child yourself," Verna said. "It's probably just a cold. But he sounds so bad. He just got so chilled that day and he just hasn't been the same since. I'll take him to the doctor tomorrow if he isn't better tonight."

Her rec room was off the back of the kitchen, more of a converted three season porch than anything, but she had extra electric radiators on the wall and kept the space pretty much as warm as the rest of the house. It was in this room that her obsession with dinky little furniture ended and she allowed big, comfortable pieces of furniture to take over. She had one of those overstuffed leather sofas with the pillow like cushions, and a couple of recliners. It looked like she'd set Sam a bed up on the sofa, but he wasn't in it at the moment. He'd made a little nest with blankets in one of the recliners and was curled up in it, watching the TV and coughing. When he noticed he wasn't alone, that it wasn't just Verna looking in on him, he flung himself out of the recliner and across the room, right into Dean's arms.

"Dean!" he cried out, as he buried his face right against Dean's midrift, right onto the baby belly, actually.

"Hey, baby boy, I missed you too," Dean said. "What's this about you leaving home?"

When Sam looked up, there were tears in his eyes too, but when he tried to answer, he just about hacked up his lungs instead. 

"I'll go make some tea, give you boys a little privacy," Verna said.

Dean held Sam as he coughed and once it calmed down just a moment, he pressed what was obviously Sam's glass of water into his hands. After Verna had come and gone with her tea, they were talking on the sofa, alone. 

"What happened at the wedding, Sam?" Dean asked. "And don't tell me you were running around without your coat and you got chilled. Because I've seen you run around in worse than that for hours and you were fine. I've seen you help Dad and me dig up a grave at midnight when the ground was all but solid and our breath was frosting up in the air, and you went to school the next morning as fresh as a daisy."

"Do I look like a bitch to you, Dean?" Sam asked, seemingly out of nowhere. 

"God, no," Dean said. "You're not like me at all."

"Mr. Darvish said he could turn me into a good little bitch in a month, better at it than you. And he spanked me on the bare ass until I came."

"Why the hell would he do that?" Dean asked, angrily. There was no way he could hope to win in a fight against an Alpha, but if Lyle showed his face right here, right now, there'd be no way he wasn't going to be at the end of one of Dean's fists. Yeah, he was Omega and he might be a knocked up bitch at the moment, but Dad had taught them how to fight. Dean knew how to use his fists and he could probably get in one good, solid punch before Mr. Darvish could overpower him. 

"Because Dad said he could," Sam said. 

And that was just like getting punched in the face. Actually, Dean had been punched in the face before and he'd do that a dozen times before willingly hearing that again.

"Jesus," Dean said, not quite able to reconcile the Alpha that he loved, that he trusted just telling a man they'd hadn't even known for two months that he could just brutalize their Sammy, not when Dean knew deep in his gut that their Alpha loved Sammy just as much as he loved Dean. "There must have been some mistake, Sammy. Mr. Darvish must have misunderstood your Daddy's intentions. He wouldn't do that to you."

"I think he wants me to be more like you, Dean," Sammy said. Then he coughed again for a while. Dean paused to be sure Sam drank more tea with honey, that they were good to go again. Then Sam added, "I think he wants me to be a good little bitch for him too. He wants Mr. Darvish to tame me."

"Sammy, I don't think anyone can make someone be like me," Dean told him later, after some more crying and coughing and just plain sitting on the sofa, being in each others arms. "This thing I am to him. It's something I kind of always have been. It's something I've always wanted and needed without even knowing what it was. You don't remember. Maybe he never spanked you at all. But he spanked me when I was like four, five, and I would get these little boy hard ons. Then my tummy would feel all funny and goofy after a while, then I'd be real tired. I think it really freaked him out that this little boy of four was getting orgasms from being spanked and that's why he stopped and didn't do it to you."

"You're a bigger freak than I am," Sam said.

"Yeah, pretty much. But look, you can't make someone be what I am. Maybe Mr. Darvish could train you to act like I do and maybe even act like you're happy about it, but it wouldn't be in your nature. You might act like a bitch, but you wouldn't be a bitch. You, the real you, would always be simmering under the surface, wondering why you have to be that way, but me, the minute Alpha called me his bitch, it was like coming home. It was like every Christmas and birthday we never had were given to me all at once. But you can't make that happen to someone. There must have been some mistake. I'll talk to your Daddy. I'll find out what happened. You stay put here, until we're sure what's going on."

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Daddy did ask me to suck Mr. Darvish's cock. And I did and I liked it. If Mr. Darvish had taken me out to the grove so I could suck his cock after your claiming, I wouldn't be here. I like sex. A lot."

Well, the apple didn't fall too far from that tree, Dean thought. But just because Sammy liked it, didn't mean John should have asked him to. 

"You get some rest and you get better, baby boy. I'll be back tomorrow," Dean said. 

By the time he was ready to leave, Verna insisted on driving him, even though it was just a few blocks, but it was pretty much blizzard conditions out and dark already. Then Vern saw them struggling to get her car out of the driveway and sent her inside and drove Dean home himself, in his four by four. 

"Don't be too hard on him, Dean," Vern said, as they took off. 

"I think he deserves it. He has me. I would do anything he asked me. Literally anything, and when he has a friend who needs his cock sucked, he asks a little boy, instead of me."

"He wouldn't be the first man who thinks with his Jimmy sometimes when he shouldn't and he won't be the last. And Sammy's not all that little anymore. He's pretty close to the usual claiming age in our town."

Once he was back at the house on Joy St, he didn't say anything to John, he just went upstairs, and because he was exhausted, he threw himself into the bed in Sammy's room. Or rather, the room that was supposed to be Sammy's, but was no one's now, because Sammy wasn't coming home any time soon. Because they were still Winchesters, they didn't talk about it, but John seemed to know better than to ask anything of him at the moment. In the morning, Dean came downstairs, saw John getting himself ready for a day at work. Because John seemed just as broken up about this as Dean, Dean found that he could look John in the eyes again and not find himself boiling with rage.

John met his eyes and said, "I made a mistake, but I can fix it and he'll be back with us. Soon."

Dean knew that this was so. He could tell that Sam didn't want to stay away. 

"Just promise me something," Dean said. John nodded. "Promise me you'll never try to make him into something like me, because maybe you could, but then he wouldn't be Sammy."

"I know. I promise, I won't," John said, and he wrapped Dean in strong arms and held him tight. If he was a little bit late on his first day coming back to work, that was understandable. He was a newly wed.

***

Sam's cold, regrettably, got better. He kind of missed it, Verna hovering over him. Dean visiting every day and fussing over him. But first the fever was gone, then the stuffy nose, and finally, the hacking, dry cough, that didn't turn out to be pertussis, but just a cold turned bronchitis, exacerbated by the cold, dry mountain air. He'd been given an inhaler for temporary, just until the cough went away, but that was the worst effect.

Worse was having to walk back into his school after having been gone for over two weeks. The first couple of hours, he could pretend it was okay. They were basic academic classes: math, science, history. No one could really say anything to him, because there wasn't a lot of discussion, just lectures and note taking. 

After third period, he ducked into the one Omega wash room on this floor, not so much because he had to pee now, but because it was the only time he was close to one in the morning. He could, technically, use the boy's room. That was allowed in this school. But they said things about you if you used the boy's room. Not good things. They said things like you were just going in there to blow some Alphas, and while Sam didn't actually have any problems with actually doing just that, he didn't want to get talked about for not having done anything. And because, hey, the five minutes between classes was just not enough time to even get started on a decent blow job, much less multiple blow jobs. Five minutes out, Sam still wanted to be nibbling the guy's ball sack and planting little kisses on the underside of the guy's rod, not even having worked his way up to the head yet. 

So, he walked into the Omega's room and Rory was waiting there, with about three of his friends. Sam was instantly on guard, not because Rory or the other Omegas were going to beat him up, and even if they were, Sam knew he could take all three of them at once. But because Rory would say something mean, and Sam wouldn't even know how to retaliate. That wasn't how he was taught. He'd been taught that if you had a problem with a guy, you punched him and he punched you back and then, generally, providing the school authorities didn't show up, it was all good. But you didn't hit an Omega, even if you were an Omega yourself.

"Sam," Rory said.

"Rory," Sam said, back, cautiously, stepping up to the urinal. They left him alone while he took care of business and until he zipped up, because they might be Omegas, but in the end, they were still guys and there were codes about that. You didn't talk to a dude while he was pissing. 

After that, he noticed that the Omegas had a few things out on the little ledge under the bathroom mirror. He stepped up to the sink, to wash his hands and Rory said, "Hold still, this will just take a moment."

Then Rory grabbed a comb and got to work. On Sam's hair. He pulled the comb through it as Sam stood there, in shock that someone dared to do this. Sam had never paid much attention to his hair before. It was just always kind of there. When it had gotten too long, Dean made sure he got a hair cut, because if they did't get it cut soon enough and it had gotten to the point of Omega long, Dad had always just grabbed the clippers out of his bag and shorn Sam to a military cut. But right now, Rory combed the hair off Sam's face and out of his eyes. He employed small metal brown things that Sam later identified as barrettes, and a can of hair spray. In three minutes flat, Rory had pulled off an approximation of a proper Omega hairdo in Sam's too short, too floppy hair. 

"Don't say I never did anything for you, Sam," Rory said. Then he pulled a little tube out of his pocket. It was new and sealed. And cherry flavored. "Lip balm. Use it. Your lips are crazy chapped. You'll never get an Alpha with lips like that."

Sam was about to protest, that his lips were fine, but then he was confused. What the hell was going on here? Were they giving him some kind of mini-makeover right in the bathroom? Was this Rory being nice to him or was this just some part of a larger plan to wind him up for a later cruelty? 

"You know, you look pretty good with your hair done up properly," said Chaz, one of Rory's friends. He wore his hair long for even an Omega and his lips were the perfect bow shape. Not chapped at all, but moist with some kind of lip balm. A lot of people considered Chaz to be the prettiest Omega in school. 

Before any of them can say much more, the warning bell rings and they all have less than a minute to get to their next class. Sam's next class was Family Life and Health, which was a requirement for all Omegas, and just a less obvious way to say "Home Ec and Taking Care of Babies." It was Sam's least favorite class ever, in his whole history of school, for obvious reasons, and because it was the first class he was pretty sure he was ever going to fail. Sam never got less than As, but so far, Sam had completely flubbed just about every lab practical for this stupid class, though the one where they made pies would have turned out okay probably, except that someone, not naming names, but definitely, almost certainly, Rory, had switched out his cup of sugar for a cup of salt after he'd measured it out. Sam had, however, gotten a hundred percent on the budgeting and financial portion of the class, which is just applied math that he could do with his eyes closed, and other, small, odd portions of the class, like the day where they'd done knife sharpening and he'd been asked to show off his technique to the whole class. And the day where they had to debone a whole chicken had brought him no qualms, even as it sent most of his classmates squealing with disgust. He just had no problems handling a knife and using it on flesh. 

Today though, when he sat down, it wasn't a lab practical. Mr. McCaskill, the teacher opened up with an illustration on the overhead projector. It was a familiar drawing of Omega anatomy, showing how the vagina is tucked behind the testicles. They were going to talk about sex today and Sam sighed, because it was going to be all the boring textbook stuff that he knew already, and nothing about the real, dirty, even painful mess that Sam had already learned about how sex really was between Alphas and Omegas. Sam had read ahead in the text book. It said nothing about the difference between just being someone's Omega and being their bitch. It said nothing about coming while getting spanked. It said nothing about just how much Sam craved sex, even right now at this minute, he was getting hard just from looking at the picture on the overhead, and thinking about an illustrated cock pressing into the illustrated vagina. 

But then Mr. McCaskill flipped off the overhead projector and he, because it was an actual Omega who taught the class, one of the few who taught, said, "You've all heard the lecture before. That's a state requirement, but it's pretty much the same lecture you heard last year, and the year before. I also know that you're all twelve now and pretty much all of you have had some exposure or another to adult sexuality. Even though the state law says claiming you isn't legal until fourteen, approximately two percent of you, statistically speaking, nationwide, not just here in Utah, aren't going to be here at school next year, because you'll be at home with a newborn and twenty percent of you will be gone from school by the time you're fourteen. So I've decided this time, I'm just going to answer any questions you have honestly. This is going to be my last week teaching," he said, pointing to his very pregnant belly. "And I'm moving out of state soon. So, I have nothing to fear from the school board. Or your parents. So ask away. I'll give you the real answer."

At first, it was an awkward silence. Everyone was embarrassed. No one wanted to be the first one to ask anything. Sam figured, socially speaking, he had nothing to lose. He was already scraping the barrel, so he was about to speak up, when someone else did. It was Rory. 

"How did you get to age twenty eight and that's your first baby?" Rory asked. "I mean you have an Alpha, so you must have been having sex. What did you use?"

They all knew the implications of the question. There was no way you could get your Alpha to use a condom for that many years. And Mr. McCaskill wasn't that feminized, so he hadn't been using the pill that many years. The Pill could really mess you up that way, if used long term. It would shrink your cock and balls even, everyone knew that. Give you big, woman-sized breasts.

"There's a device. It's called an IUD. It's made out of copper wire and the doctor can put it in your uterus. They make it so you can't conceive. They're not illegal, but sometimes, doctors are afraid to talk about them because there was a batch of bad ones about twenty years ago, and a lot of Omegas got hurt, but really, they're very safe and effective these days. And you don't need your Alpha's consent to get one put in."

And so, the class started to pepper Mr. McCaskill with questions about this and that. As Sam expected, most of the Omegas in this class weren't like him. They had boyfriends, fiancés. Some of them have had something like sex, but most of them hadn't. There didn't appear to be one situation like his. He was the only one who had someone like Daddy, an Alpha who hasn't claimed him yet. An Alpha who gave him over to one of his friends to play with. Who said that he doesn't want Sam to be his bitch, but then acted like he owned Sam's pussy already. Sam thought about the come that he'd put into his pussy on the night before Dean's claiming and how it had been partly Mr. Darvish's, that he might just be pregnant with Mr. Darvish's baby. It was too soon to tell anything. It had only been two and a half weeks, but he felt different already, somehow. Sam suddenly felt very lonely, very much older than these kids around him, and he wanted to leave the class. He even would rather be doing some kitchen practical instead. 

Finally, the bell rang and he grabbed his things and shoved them into his bag. He wasn't in a hurry. It was just lunch period and the less time he spent in the cafeteria, the better. He usually tried to hide in the library during lunch. 

As he passed the teacher's desk, Mr. McCaskill asked, "Did you have a question, Sam? I could see on your face, you did, but you didn't want to ask in front of everyone."

Sam just shook his head. It was all just too much of a tangled mess to get into, right here, right now, but then his mouth shocks him by speaking these words out loud, right to the teacher, "I'm pregnant." 

And Mr. McCaskill shocked him by just nodding and asking, voice steady, as if they're talking about why Sam's cookies were flat and burnt on the edges, like they were last week, "Have you taken a pregnancy test or do you just think you are because you had sex?"

Sam explained, then, about how he'd thought he wanted to be pregnant. Just how bad the urge had been. How he'd been given the come and what use he'd put it to. Just who had given him the come. Then he came to the wedding and Mr. Darvish and the grove and the spanking. Finally, he got to how he'd had to leave his home, how he was staying with Verna and hadn't even talked to his Daddy since the night before the wedding. Not that Daddy hadn't showed up at Verna's every day in the last two weeks, to try and get Sam to see him. How much he missed his Daddy but how scared he was that it would happen again. How much of a freak he was, compared to the other boys in the class.

The teacher calmly reached into his desk drawer and handed Sam a pregnancy test, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Sam, I wouldn't keep these in my drawer if I didn't have boys talk to me about this very thing every day. I give one of these out at least once a month to a boy your age and I don't give them out unless I think there's a chance he actually could be pregnant. By next year this time, some of you in this class will already have babies. So you are not alone and what you're feeling is actually very normal."

On top of the pregnancy test, the teacher stacked a handful of condoms, in rainbow colors and clear wrappers, and a couple of pamphlets on birth control. "This is the sort of stuff I could get in trouble for giving you," Mr. McCaskill said. "But I have about zero fucks to give at this point, so, there you are. Someone needs to give boys like you this kind of information."

"So, what should I do?" 

Sam looked at the pregnancy test. He remembered how disappointed Dad had been that Dean had gotten pregnant at first, then just how overjoyed he'd been at the baby. Then, he remembered how this baby might not be his Daddy's. 

"I can't tell you that, Sam," the teacher said. "If you're grown enough to be having a baby, then you need to make that decision yourself. There are options. You might not be pregnant. If you are, you don't need to stay pregnant if you don't want to be. If you decide to stay pregnant, you don't have to let that Alpha claim you. Or the other Alpha, for that matter."

It hit Sam the very first time. Mr. Darvish might think he could claim Sam for his own. If there was a baby, it might be his and that was enough for some Alphas to think they owned you. 

"Alphas get very possessive about what they feel is theirs by right," Mr. McCaskill said. "But no matter what, even after you've been claimed, your body is yours. You have options, Sam. Now, save that pregnancy test for tomorrow morning. They're more accurate that way, especially early on."

Sam couldn't bear to wait. As soon as he could, he darted into the Omega's room and though it was a struggle to come up with enough pee, he got the right part of the stick wet and he waited, according to the directions. The test was one of those that were meant to be simple. There was a window in the plastic stick. It would say either "pregnant" or "not pregnant" once the test was done.

He wasn't sure whether to cry or not once he saw that the test said, "Not Pregnant" but there was no time to think about it, because the warning bell was ringing and he had to get to his first afternoon class. He wrapped the test up in a bunch of toilet paper and pushed it deep into the bathroom trash can. He'd wanted to be pregnant so bad, but not with Mr. Darvish's baby. But then there was gym class and English and Spanish, so he was too busy to really think about it again.

Later that afternoon, as he was preparing to walk back to Verna's house, Rory ran up to him and said, "Sam, wait."

"What? Did you want your barrettes back?" Sam asked, putting his hand to his hair, preparing to tug the flat pieces of metal out.

"No, I wanted to know if you wanted to come home with me. I could show you how I did your hair, so you can do it again tomorrow."

"I don't want to go to your house, Rory."

"He's not there. There's a project he's supervising south of Provo. He'll be gone until late tonight," Rory said. "Jessamyn asked me to ask you."

"Is she bribing you to be nice to me or something?" 

"The bribe is pretty good, Sam," Rory admitted. "Two hours alone with Jim when he comes home next month."

Sam thought about how much he wanted to see Daddy, spend two hours alone with him. He knew that Rory would put up with a lot to get to see Jim for that long. 

"Okay, but I'm going to see Jessamyn, not you," Sam said. 

Arriving at the Darvish's house, Sam looked across the street, to see the dinky little cabin that they'd rented when they'd first got to town. It was empty now. Sam knew that Daddy and Dean had moved into a house near downtown, that they weren't gone. He'd seen Dean every day nearly. But the cabin had gotten to seem like home to Sam. Seeing it now, dark and empty, the Impala not parked out in front like it had been, made Sam's heart clench a little in his chest, as if Daddy and Dean really were gone away. He knew that if Daddy were to come to Verna's house this evening, then Sam would be weak and he would break down and agree to see him, maybe even agree to go home with him. 

Later that night, Sam was doing his homework, the little bit he hadn't been able to get done while he was in other classes. It only took him a whole hour to do it because he couldn't stop thinking about things. Like, what he wanted. Was he really that sad that there wasn't a baby inside of him? Did he want to be one of those two percent of Omegas who wouldn't be in school next year because of a baby? Because he kind of liked school, at least the classes part. It was something he was good at. Except maybe home ec.

He wasn't quite as bored in his classes at this school as he had been in some schools. Florida had Omega only schools, and apparently they expected to graduate functional illiterates from those schools as far as Sam was concerned, the classes he'd been expected to take had been so basic. Then there had been the guidance counselor in Indiana who refused to let Sam take honors classes on the grounds that he probably wouldn't be graduating high school anyway. The school he'd gone to in St. Louis had been bad all around, for everyone. So, really, the school in Mount Pleasant wasn't too bad, except for the other kids. 

Sam had finished up with his work, and he was about to crack open his fun reading book again when Verna poked her head into the rec room. 

"He's here again, Sam. Did you want to see him this time?" 

Sam was out of his seat in an instant, novel forgotten, and brushing past Verna before he even had a second thought. He only drew up shyly when he reached the front hallway and he saw his Daddy waiting there. Daddy had taken the time to change out of his working clothes, into fresh ones, it looked like he might have even showered and shaved. His dark brown hair was tousled, as if it'd been dried with a towel and not combed into place. His warm brown eyes looked soft, to Sam, both kind of a little sad and a little hopeful. He smiled when he saw that Sam had come at least into the same room as him and Sam couldn't help but smile back, even though he didn't run to Daddy, like part of him really wanted to. He could almost feel the hug he wasn't getting, phantoms of strong arms wrapping him up safe and tight, the scent of car grease and old books and the musky leathery smell that was the basic scent of his Daddy. 

"Daddy, I missed you," Sam said. "Missed you a lot."

"I missed you too, Baby," Daddy said. 

"Where's Dean?"

"At home. I'm here for you alone tonight. You and me, we've got to talk, Sammy."

"Are you here to make me come home?"

"That's one of the things we've got to talk about. Did you want to come out to dinner with me?"

"Out to dinner? Like a date?" Out to dinner definitely sounded very adult like, very much like a date. 

"Like a date," Daddy said. "Is that okay, Verna?"

"That's up to Sam," Verna said.

"I won't stay out too late. It's a school night," Sam said to Daddy. 

They didn't end up going out to dinner. It started pretty simply. Sam turned sideways in the front seat of the Impala, kicked his shoes off and put his feet onto Daddy's lap while he drove. Then Daddy started rubbing his feet with the hand he didn't need for the wheel and it felt really good, really nice. Sam took his feet back and leaned over and kissed Daddy on the side of the neck, right along the tendon of his neck. Then Daddy pulled over to this dark empty parking lot that was next to the library and put the car in park, so they could kiss. Sam clambered onto Daddy's lap, straddling him and they made out in the parking lot. Daddy's kisses were awesome. He tasted a little like beer, but only a little, more like fresh toothpaste, and up closer, he smelled like Old Spice and Sam remembered how he had scraped together some money last Christmas and bought some Old Spice for him, because he liked the way it smelled. Daddy's kisses were somehow powerful without being forceful. He was letting Sam lead the way, accepting anything Sam did to him with equanimity. His body was so solid, so muscular, so broad that Sam's legs were almost uncomfortably widely spread, just straddling his lap. Daddy had a hard on, but he didn't grind it against Sam or do anything with it. It was just there and Sam felt a little thrill, knowing he'd done that to the man. Sam's own cock was hard too and he wanted things, specific things. Like he wanted Daddy to run his fingers down the middle of his back, ending at Sam's ass crack. He wanted Daddy to spread his cheeks and run a wet finger up and down over his hole, the backside hole. 

"Daddy, can I tell you something?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Anything," Dad whispered against his neck, his voice low and husky and a little rough.

"I don't want to stay a virgin until I'm claimed," Sam said. "My pussy belongs to me, not you. And I get to decide who gets to get in it first and when."

"I know, Baby," Daddy said. 

"I want it to be you," Sam said. He dug into the pocket of his jeans. They were a little too tight for comfort, because they were Omega style jeans, but Sam found the little packet he was looking for, shoved there earlier as he'd been doing his homework and thinking about how if Daddy came by tonight, he'd definitely go talk to him. Sam looked at the packet before handing it over to Daddy. Even in the low light, he could see that the condom was bright yellow, almost day glow. He put the condom in Daddy's hand and said, "And I want it to be tonight and you need to wear this."

"Sammy," Daddy whispered and it sounded a little like a warning, but he wasn't saying no. "Are you sure? Are you sure you want to do it here? We could drive into the city and get a nice hotel room and make it special for you."

"This is special," Sammy said. The Impala had been their home for as long as Sam could remember, up until early October. It was Sam's favorite place in the world, in some ways, and it just smelled right. "Not in the parking lot. I want you to drive up to the park. Not the claiming park, but the other one near there. The one that overlooks the lake."

"You're going to have to get off my lap if you want me to drive there," Daddy said.

So Sam climbed off John's lap and sat himself back into the passenger seat of the Impala. John put the car into gear and they drove, out of town, up to the park, which wasn't really that far out of town.

"I want to stay at Verna's," Sam said, and he started babbling, everything he'd thought about all afternoon and all evening and more. "I don't want to come home yet. I want to keep going to school, at least until I graduate high school. And I want you to be my Alpha. Someday. But not yet. I want you to be my boyfriend right now. I don't want to have sex with just you. I want to try other people. Other people I pick out, not ones you tell me to. I love you but I just want to try other people. Dean got a chance to be with other people, even though all he ever wanted was you. And I don't want babies, not yet. I mean, my body does. My body wants them a lot. Right now. But up here, my head is saying no. I want to get an IUD, so we can have lots of sex, but there aren't any babies, no matter what my body tries to get me to do. And I want to keep growing until I'm at least as tall as Dean, so that means no babies for now."

"Okay," Daddy chuckled and shook his head at Sam's rapid fire demands. "You are a greedy little thing, but yes. All that and more."

By then, they were at the lake and Daddy parked the Impala in a spot that overlooked the lake and the mountain and the twinkly little lights of the town. It was quiet out here, and pretty, the lake, more of a little pond really, frozen over and covered with snow. Sam started to climb onto Daddy's lap, but Daddy shook his head and said, "Back seat."

So Daddy left the car running, for the heater, and they got out of the front and went into the backseat. Daddy pulled off his big winter coat and bundled it up for a kind of pillow, then he laid back and pulled Sam after him. Then they were kissing and touching each other and it was everything Sam had ever wanted when he looked at his Daddy. Each touch of Daddy's lips was a promise to be gentle, but Sam could feel how strong he was too, with each caress. Daddy pushed Sam's coat off, then tugged his t-shirt off, leaving Sam bare-chested, then there was lots of tugging and pulling and shoving down of inconvenient clothing, until they were both naked. And then there was more touching and Daddy did just what Sam had been thinking about earlier, running his hands down Sam's spine, then pulling his cheeks apart to reach between them and rub. Sam was panting, and whining that he wanted it so bad he couldn't stand it. He just felt empty inside and he knew his Daddy could do what he needed. 

"Not yet, Baby," Daddy said. "Ride my face. I want to make sure you come first."

So Sam climbed up and straddled Daddy's neck. Sam's cock was engulfed in sudden, hot wetness, and with just a little bit of sucking, Sam found himself flying. He wasn't in control of his body, it shivered and shook, and he couldn't stop himself from thrusting until he felt himself just burst and he'd come in Daddy's mouth. He could feel the motion of Daddy's throat swallowing his come down.

Then Daddy laid Sammy down on the back seat and knelt over him. "Are you sure you want this tonight?"

Sam nodded.

"It might hurt, when I first go in," Daddy said. "You're a virgin and I'm big and you're tiny. Do you want fingers inside you first?"

"No, just you."

Daddy found the clear wrapper and he tore it open with a crinkle. Then he pulled his foreskin back until the head of his cock was visible. He placed the condom on his cock, squeezed the tip of the condom, then unrolled it down most of the length. Halfway through, he paused to pull his foreskin back up. Only then did he roll the condom all the way down. It looked kind of ridiculous, the bright yellow condom seemed to glow against Daddy's dusky skin, but it was kind of hot too, because it meant that in a moment, they were going to be having sex and that Daddy cared enough about Sammy not to spill his seed inside Sammy when he'd been asked not to.

"You know I can't knot you with the condom on," Daddy said.

"I know. I'm not ready for that yet."

Daddy spread Sam's legs and knelt between them, then pulled Sammy up as he moved forward. It burned going in a little, then there was one moment where it kind of felt like everything was on fire, like burning hot pain, and then he was okay and he could breathe again. He felt so full though, like he was being stretched out, but it wasn't a bad thing, just a thing. No, as Daddy began to move, it became a thing that felt wonderful. Daddy held himself up with his arms and began to make gentle thrusting motions with his hips, just little ones, until Sam grew used to his presence and the motion and he found himself answering back each thrust with his own motion. Then there was deeper thrusting and Sam found himself feeling as if he was growing and thickening. He had never felt so close, so near to Daddy. He was getting an erection again even though he just came and normally his second and third orgasm's didn't often involve his dick, just his pussy. And Sam can't stop whining and mewling. He wants. He wants more. He wants to feel Daddy's heavy weight on top of him and he wants Daddy's hips to snap and roll, then grow rapid, even unstoppable. And he gets that, everything he wants and more. He's coming again, feeling indescribable parts inside of him squeeze and pull and then Daddy thrusts one more time and cries out, "Sam!" and he comes. He thrusted a few more times, lazily, but pulled out carefully after that, grabbing the base of the condom so it doesn't come off inside Sam. It was here that John's fanatical devotion to keeping the car clean works against him, because as he pulled the condom off his deflating cock, there was nothing to wrap it up in and obviously, he was not going to just throw that dirty thing to the floor of the car. But then he knotted it up and did just that, so that he could lay back down on the Impala seat and hold Sam.

Sam sighed, because he'd never been so happy. "That's what I wanted from you, Daddy," he said. "Just that."

 

***

John saw Sam to the porch. He lifted Sammy up onto the second step, and leaned forward. Only then were their mouths about equally placed, so they could kiss comfortably. Sam's lips tasted of come and cherry in about equal measures and John would probably never think of cherry chapstick quite the same way again. Sam's lips were kind of swollen a little, because there had been so much kissing. And maybe Sam might have gotten a bit of stubble burn too, but John couldn't help that. He'd shaved just before coming to get Sam, but his beard had always been stubborn. He was one of those guys who had five o'clock shadow right after he'd shaved even. 

"I think you should grow a beard, Daddy," Sammy said, as if he could tell what John was thinking. He rubbed John's face a little. "I'd like that."

"I might do that, Baby," John said. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. It'd grow out fast and if he didn't like it, it'd be easy enough to shave it off. 

Though the window, John could see that Verna was asleep, sitting fully upright on one of her ridiculous settees, waiting for Sam. They were rather later than they'd planned to be, but snuggling in the back seat of the Impala had led to another round of sex. Not intercourse, because Sam had brought only the one condom, but there were other things that could be done, with hands and mouths and fingers. Sam had discovered what it felt like to have your prostate stimulated from two sides at once- he'd pretty much slammed his cock towards the back of John's throat and came right then. He ejaculated from his pussy too, drenching John's face and chest. 

Sam yawned, then said, "Can I come and see Dean tomorrow after school?"

"You don't have to ask. You can come and go as you like. I'll give you a key. There's a room ready for you when you want it or you can sleep with Dean and me."

"Good night, Daddy," Sam said, suddenly shy, as if the topic of him coming home was too much for right now. 

"Good night, Sammy," John said, and watched as Sam walked into Verna's house. It was a wretch to do it, as every bone in his body, every instinct told him to not to let Sam go, that the boy was his, especially now. But he stood there and he forced himself to watch Sam walk away. There'd be a lot of these little walkings away in the future, John thought, but if he gave Sam the space he needed, if he wasn't too possessive, then someday soon, Sam would be walking right back into his arms again forever. He told himself that the time apart would do them no harm, that they would be better for it. 

As Verna woke up in the living room and gave Sam a quick hug, then seemed to start asking him about his night, John turned away, got back into his car and drove back to the house on Joy. 

He still couldn't get over the address of their new house. They lived on the corner of Joy St. and Honest Pleasures Drive. He chuckled to himself at the street names just about every time he pulled into the driveway of the house that reminded him so much of the house back in Lawrence, but not in any way that was painful anymore. He'd put Mary to rest and now, he had this new life, maybe even better than the life that should have been his in the first place. 

Dean was stretched out on the new sofa that they'd bought, first thing, with money from the wedding presents. They still had all of the other furniture that had come with the room, but they had a sofa, covered in leather, long enough for a tall man like himself to stretch out on. Dean didn't have the TV on, but had been reading, his book abandoned when Dean had given himself over to sleep, the book perched on his baby bump. It was funny, he'd never thought of Dean liking to read, had never seen him do it for pleasure or for more than the bare minimum he needed to get by. Once he'd actually started living with Dean, full time, not taking off for weeks at a time, he'd discovered that yes, Dean did read. Dean had also been studying for the GED earlier. He had a thick paperback study guide, well thumbed and used, on the coffee table next to him.

He woke as John stepped a bit further into the room, rolling over onto his side and knocking his book onto the floor. He then pushed himself upright, already a bit of a struggle for him. "Hey, you must have seen Sammy tonight," he said as he stood up and checked his watch. "It's late."

First thing, Dean stripped himself automatically of the sweatpants and t-shirt he was wearing, folding them neatly and stacking them on the coffee table. Dean still always shivered a little in obvious pleasure when making himself naked for his Alpha and tonight was no different. But when he walked over to John and inserted himself into John's waiting arms, he seemed unhappy. He leaned tiredly against John, but he didn't relax against John, he didn't melt into John's arms like he should have. His tired was a nervous, wrought kind of tired, like he'd spent too much effort earlier, trying to stay awake until John got home. He sounded a little jealous as he said, "You definitely smell like sex. Reeking of it. You and Sam?"

"Yeah," John said. He slipped his arm lower, to Dean's lower back, to guide him upstairs. He was pretty sure he knew what Dean needed, but he was going to wait until Dean asked for it. "Let's get you to bed. You need your rest, Little Bitch."

"I slept plenty earlier," Dean said. "I want to hear about you and Sam. Is he coming home?"

"Not yet. He's coming by tomorrow afternoon."

"Yeah, I usually go see him after school but he probably wants help with a home ec project. Boy hasn't got a domestic bone in his body. They had them sewing the other week. I'm not sure Sam knows what to make of sewing anything other than sutures."

They went upstairs to their bed. His bed. It was no longer a strange bed he slept in. It may have been only two or so weeks since he'd been sleeping in this particular bed, but he knew that he'd be sleeping in it for the foreseeable future. His future children would be conceived in this bed. He slept better in this bed than he had for years, with Dean at his side. Sometime, hopefully soon, but in his own time, Sammy would be there too.

"Alpha?" Dean asked as John came into the room.

"Yes, Little Bitch?" 

"Can you relieve my breasts? And would you spank me? Please? I need it. I need you."

"Let's see how bad they are," John said. Then he reached out and gave Dean's breasts each a big squeeze. They hadn't looked engorged, but when John squeezed, generous streams of milk dripped down, running past his fingers, down Dean's torso. "You did pump?"

"I hate that thing," Dean said. "But I used it at midnight. I guess my body just made more."

"It'll do that. Don't worry. I'll take care of you."

So Dean ended up spread over his lap, quivering, waiting for the first spank to fall down. These spankings had been Dean's idea, Dean's request, but John had grown to love them as well for the way that they made his Little Bitch melt and quiver, for how they were, yes, pain, but that they were something that Dean needed. He needed the chance to cry out, for the tears to flow down his face, because of something that was out of his control. They'd probably flow anyways, those tears. They were hormonal, but if John didn't give him the spanking, Dean would be far worse a mess. He'd think of himself as weak and impossibly emotional. With the spanking, he could get it out and over with and then he was done for the night, happy and content. In some ways, the spankings were harder on John than Dean. His hand stung from delivering hard enough blows for Dean to get his required release.

"I'm glad you just asked for what you needed," John said, just before he brought his hand down. For some reason his eyes came to rest on his hair brush, sitting on the dresser. It was wood, with a flat back. He loved the intimacy of his hand on Dean's flesh, his muscular ass, how warm it got with the blows, the smooth skin under his rough hands. But he was also tired tonight after having had Sam, and didn't know if he could sustain enough and hard enough blows to bring Dean to the place he needed to be. "Bring me the hairbrush, Little Bitch."

Dean pulled himself off John's lap again and walked over to the dresser. He picked up the brush and presented it to John, then, at John's direction laid himself out on John's lap again. John set the hairbrush to the side, still not certain if he was going to use the hard wooden implement tonight. But then, when the first few blows that John brought down on Dean's ass only brought forth whimpers from Dean. So John picked up the brush, and experimentally, brought the flat side of the brush down on Dean, not too hard, but it caused Dean to huff out, exhaling loudly. Then the second blow, just a bit harder, brought on the effect John had been seeking. Dean's spine straightened, his whole body tensed, and he yelped. By the fifth blow, Dean was sobbing, but he was also rutting against John's leg. Only a few more blows and Dean would be the required shivering mess. 

Dean's orgasm, like usual, wasn't easy to discern in the midst of his cries. There was an extra edge maybe, to his sobs as the only early warning. Then suddenly, he stiffened and John's leg was a little wet from Dean's come. 

"That's what you needed, isn't it?" John said, caressing Dean's ass now. Dean didn't answer, except maybe a slight murmur. He was asleep again in seconds and John crawled out from underneath his sleeping Omega, shaking him just enough to wake him, so they could get under the covers together. John turned off the light and stripped himself of his clothes. He came to his marriage bed as naked as God had made him and he slipped under the covers with his Omega. Dean mumbled as he stretched out onto his side and grumbled as John rolled him onto his back instead.

"You still want me to take care of these for you?" John asked, laying his hands on Dean's tits.

Dean woke enough to answer, to say, more or less clearly, "Yeah. Good. Sleepy now."

John bent his head to Dean's left breast, latched on, started sucking and pulling, but he didn't even stay awake long enough to finish with the first breast, much less move on to the second. It was dark and he was tired. The morning would come way too soon. But he was content to fall asleep this way. 

 

***

 

Dean groaned as he was woken up by a contraction. No, not a real one, just a Braxton-Hicks. They'd started just after Christmas, and they hadn't let up yet. They probably wouldn't at all, until the baby was born. They were just mild, but they might not let up at all until after the baby was born, luckily just under a month away at this point. It was just a little cramp this time. He struggled to sit up in bed, trying to get to the bathroom. Sometimes, it was a full bladder that triggered the Braxton-Hicks and going relieved them enough that he could get back to sleep. He didn't realize in his tiredness that Alpha's arm and leg were draped over him. To make things worse, Sammy was on his other side, wedged up against him. No, he wasn't home for good yet, but he often spent Friday night with them, after a date with his Daddy, sometimes even Saturday too, if he didn't have a date. 

As Dean elbowed his soundly sleeping Alpha and pushed back at Sam, just enough that he could sort of shimmy his way out of bed, he thought about his little brother dating. And their Alpha allowing it. More accurately, not really having a say in it. John couldn't do anything, but he was not happy about it. Sammy saw more guys than Dean ever had at his age. Sam usually made sure that his dates picked him up at Verna's after the first time he'd had a guy pick him up here. John hadn't actually done anything, but he given the young guy the hairy eyeball such that Sam came home complaining to Dean that John had scared the guy limp and he'd refused to even try anything, not even a kiss. 

Dean wandered into the bathroom and sighed. He didn't even really try and reach his dick. He just sat down on the toilet to pee. Hard to believe he still had nearly a month to go and he was already this big. The doctor insisted it was just one baby, and one that wasn't some monster size. He felt so big though. Like some kind of whale.

Sam was here on a Sunday night because he was going into the city with them in the morning, to Dean's androcologist. Dean was having one of his usual visits, but Sam was going to get an IUD inserted today. It'd taken a little doing to convince the Doctor to do it on a boy so young, but apparently it'd been fine once the doc had gotten a gander at Sam's internal organs. That he'd been fully developed. She'd said it was honestly a wonder that the boy wasn't pregnant already. That normally when the uterus and ovaries were this flush, this swollen, that meant they were pumping out tons of hormones, those little biological signals that were telling Sam he needed a baby, that he needed to get pregnant, by any means. It wasn't that Omega's went into heat, per se, but sometimes they got unbalanced, especially when an Omega came into maturity early, like Sam had. The doctor prescribed a few months of emergency suppressants, to get those hormones back in check, ease up the baby lust and to get Sam's uterus back into a state where the IUD could be inserted safely. 

His business taken care of, Dean returned to the bedroom. He tried to shove Sam towards John, so that he could get the edge of the bed, rather than the middle. For as often as he got up to pee in a given night, it was a wonder that they didn't insist he take the outside of the pile, but the two of them preferred Dean to be in the middle, between them. Even now, though he thought Sam was fast asleep, he woke as he realized that Dean was now on his other side. 

"Hey, Little Bitch," Sam said, big smile on his face. 

"Again, not your bitch," Dean said, without much vehemence. 

Sam had started up with it when he'd started dating John. There wasn't really any stopping him and Dean didn't mind that much. The emergency suppressors had put a lot of Sam's more feminine traits into the background, his masculine ones to the forefront, which was kind of tough on the kid, for that to happen, just as he was trying to act more Omega than he had before. But Sam always said it so gleefully and there was a little part of Dean that actually liked it when Sam called him that. 

Dean sometimes found himself wondering if there was, instead of a black and white division, a kind of spectrum from Alpha to Omega. Like he was about as Omega as you could get but with Sam there was something of the Alpha about him too. That, while there was no doubt that his Alpha was Alpha, there could be a kind of tenderness to him at times that was almost Omega-like. Society used physical genitals as an absolute cutting off point, a division, but Dean thought maybe it wasn't quite that simple. As Sam crawled around, putting Dean in the middle again between them, putting him in his place, Dean found himself wondering what it'd be like to be topped by Sam, if it was even possible. Yeah, Omegas had dicks, but they didn't fuck. They were fucked. 

As Sam settled himself on the outside, the baby started moving around. More than that, she was wrestling pretty vigorously in there, getting a few kicks right to the middle of his belly.

"Baby's moving," Dean said.

"I can see," Sam said. 

Dean's belly was actually twitching a little. 

"You sure you don't have an alien in there, Ripley?" Sam teased. 

"Shut up, jerk," Dean snapped, as the baby got even more agitated. Felt like she was Irish step dancing in there or something. "She's just a little cramped in there. My baby is beautiful. Not an alien."

"Yeah, she is," Sam said, putting his hand on Dean's belly. "I can't wait until she's here."

"Me either. I'm just about done being pregnant," Dean said, even though other than the having to pee sitting down thing, he didn't mind it too much. Still, he couldn't wait to hold her in his arms, to see her face, to touch her, smell her. Nurse her from the tits that were already swollen with milk.

Sam then kissed him right on the apex of his belly, the belly button, which now poked out, a temporary outie. It was sweet and made him shiver a little. Then Sam kissed him again, a little lower, then lower again, right down his linea nigra, until he grew perilously close to Dean's dick, which, even though he didn't want it to started swelling up on him.

"What're you doing, Sammy?" Dean asked, not actually able to tell his brother no. Not that he didn't want Sam's pretty pink mouth on him, but he also kind of didn't. Not because of the brothers thing. Because the incest thing, not really a hindrance. Both of them had had their Dad's cock inside of them less than twenty-four hours ago. That was kind of the reason not to, for Dean at least. Because he belonged to his Alpha, his father, and his body wasn't really his to give away. 

"That's not yours to play with. It belongs to my Alpha," Dean said, feeling Sam's hot breath on his dick, as the boy hesitated before engulfing Dean into his mouth. Except maybe that hadn't been the brightest of ideas, if his plans were to get Sam away from him. Because with that, Sam grinned, his plan obvious, not too much subtlety to his seduction. 

John had actually woken up a few minutes ago and was watching them from under hooded, sleep heavy eyes. Watching them with great interest and sporting a huge erection, morning wood. He must have been feeling deprived, what with not being able to stick that erection into either of them until after the doctor's appointment later today. 

"Daddy? Can I suck Little Bitch's cock for you?" Sam asked. "Would you like to watch me do that?"

"Yeah, I'd like to see that, Baby," Alpha said, voice soft and deep, yet rough with want. He started palming his cock right away, then began tugging his foreskin up and down over the head of his cock. 

So Sam's mouth suddenly engulfed him, hot and wet, eager as all hell, only to remove that mouth a moment later, leaving him in need of more, thrusting up with his hips, trying to get his dick in Sam's mouth again. But the brat just smiled and evaded him. The tease. Instead, he cradled Dean's balls in his hand, rolling them gently, pressing little biting kisses to the underside of Dean's dick, licking up and down the shaft with long, broad strokes of the tongue, in short, everything Sam must have been able to think of to tease Dean, make him hard with longing for more. And Dean did get harder, his balls drew up, out of the way, like they do when he's very hard, better to keep them out of the way while he's being fucked. At least that means that Sammy can't tease him that way. 

Sam held up a couple of fingers, looked at Alpha, who was still jacking it, like he was watching porn. "Can I play with his pussy, too, Daddy?"

"No, that belongs to me, but bring him over here. I'll help you out."

So, they prompted Dean to drape his legs over John's, Sammy knelt off to the side. John pressed first one, two, and then, easily a third finger into Dean's cunt, pressing them down as John worked them in and out of Dean. Probably, he could have added the fourth finger if he'd wanted. Sam sucked Dean down and began working Dean's cock eagerly, swallowing the whole length, then coming up to work on the tip, focusing on that lovely feeling underside of the cock, just under the head. Under this onslaught, Dean couldn't last long. He came in Sam's mouth and Sam swallowed it down. John came, not long after, in Sam's mouth as well, as Sam moved in to take over from John's hand. 

"Did you like that?" Sam asked John. 

"Yeah, I did. Let me finish you off now," John said. 

 

Later that day, Dean was lying on Dr. Adams' table, his feet up in stirrups, his junk, while theoretically draped with a sheet, was hanging out in the breeze. Like seriously, the androcologist kept her office like it was a fridge. And while Dr. Adams allowed Dean to keep his socks on, Dean was seriously wishing for a blanket or something. Maybe a sweater. Dean was alone at this appointment, the first one John had missed in a while, but he was off with Sam, during his procedure. Dean had told John to go with Sam, that he needed Sam more than Dean did, for this routine procedure.

Meanwhile, the doctor kept on poking and prodding, even inserted some cold metal instrument into Dean after she'd already finished up with the speculum.

"I'm worried, Dean," the doctor said. "Your hips haven't spread appreciably since your last visit. You've already got very narrow hips."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked. "You said it shouldn't be a problem when I asked, first time I saw you." 

She'd told him that narrow hips, in the strict measurement around his hips wasn't supposed to be a determiner of if he could successfully deliver a baby. It was all about the internal measurement. Someone could have pretty narrow hips while still being big enough to deliver a baby where it counted. 

"I mean, Omegas usually have hips that are narrower than a woman's, as far as the pelvic inlet is concerned. Not as narrow as a Beta male or an Alpha, but definitely narrower than a woman's. We don't worry about that too much, because an Omega's hips are also usually a lot stretchier than a woman's. There's a hormone called relaxin. It's responsible for a lot of things, but the most important thing it does for a pregnant Omega is that it relaxes the ligaments and it makes it so your hips can stretch out. That pelvic inlet can get bigger that way. Big enough to deliver your baby. Your hips should have already started the process of stretching by now and your pelvic inlet, at this point in your pregnancy, should be about the same size as a woman's, and it'll continue stretching out right up to and even during delivery. But your hips haven't stretched out at all since I last saw you. I'm afraid you might fall into the small number of Omegas whose pelvic ligaments don't seem to respond to relaxin enough. I'm already seeing a significant cephalo-pelvic disproportion, and it'll only get worse as your pregnancy continues. I'm going to have you schedule your c-section for about three weeks from now."

The words hit him like a hammer. Scheduled c-section. That meant that he'd failed at delivering his baby on his own before he even got a chance to try. It meant that his plans for maybe having the babies after this one at home, like Peter had his babies, were ruined. It meant he was going to be cut open and gutted, a big scar left. Jessamyn had one. She'd shown him. It'd been an emergency surgery and they'd had to cut both up and down and across to get to the baby, because the placenta turned out to be in the way. That was why her only baby was Rory. All six of the other Darvish kids had been birthed by Peter. He was suddenly afraid that, like Jessamyn, this meant that he'd only ever have the one kid. Only one baby and it wasn't even Alpha's. He set his jaw. He wasn't crying. He wasn't going to cry about this at all, not until he got home and it was late night, when his usual surge of hormones hit. 

"You're sure about this?" Dean asked, his voice sounding gruff and yet, somehow, a bit quavery. "You're not even going to let me try to birth my baby?"

"I can have you come back in two weeks and we can see if the situation has changed any. Sometimes, an Omega is just a little late. We can also run diagnostic tests to see the exact dimension of your pelvic inlet and compare them to the size of your baby's head, but I'm afraid the answer will probably remain the same. Almost all of the Omegas whose hips haven't spread some by this point, won't at all. Your baby's head is already too big to fit through your hips. We're lucky we have the surgery, Dean. Omegas with your condition, before we developed the surgery, died during birth, their babies too."

The message was clear. He could be cut open. Or he and his baby would die. She pretty much didn't give him a third option. "Okay," he said. "Okay."

There really wasn't anything else to be said, was there? It meant his childbearing career was pretty much over, before it'd hardly began and it meant that he pretty much was useless. That he'd be a disappointment to Alpha, who'd wanted to fill him with so many children and a disappointment to himself, because he'd needed to give Alpha as many children as he could. 

"Okay," he said, one last time, before shutting his mouth. 

"I'll get his Alpha," the nurse said. 

"No!" Dean said. "Don't get him. He's with Sam. Sam needs him more than me."

A second nurse opened the door to his exam room and said, "Doctor, a word?"

The doctor stepped out into the hallway and there were soft words for a moment before she stepped back into the room and said, "I'm sorry. I know this has been hard news. We'll give you a moment to get dressed, then you can meet with Dr. Hibberd in her office, to discuss what the c-section entails."

They left him there alone, legs still spread on the stirrups, legs and junk hanging out. He tried to talk himself into moving, into sitting up and pulling off the open backed gown, getting dressed. Pulling himself together. The nurse had placed a box of tissues in his hands just before she'd left the room. Because it was the only thing to hand, he whipped it across the room, hard as he could. It broke against the far wall, on a poster of Omega anatomy. He'd thrown it hard enough that the box had actually compressed, crumpled and broken, spilling tissues onto the floor. And then he didn't have anything else in him, not a jot of energy to move. And he was not going to cry, not here. 

He laid there a long time, not moving, staring up at the ceiling. He thought maybe one of the nurses might have looked in on him and left him alone again. Much later, even though he'd told them not to bother him, John poked his head into the exam room, then walked in, shut the door behind him. From the soft, concerned expression on John's face, Dean knew that they'd told him

"Dean?"

"Dad?" Dean asked. The word came unbidden to his lips. It had been months since he'd called John that, but the moment, he didn't want his Alpha, but the strong man who'd scared away monsters when Dean had been small, who'd picked him up and put him on his shoulders, to carry him. Who'd first put a gun in his hands, then wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders, to show him where to put his hands, how to aim, how to pull the trigger. 

"Oh, Dean," John said and he wrapped his arms around Dean, helping him down off the exam table. "You need me to be your father right now? Not your Alpha, not your husband?"

"Yeah," Dean said, then buried his face in John's shoulder. 

"Hey, let's get you dressed, first," John said. 

So Dean let himself be dressed, pulled together. And he still wasn't crying, not here, but if he needed someone to help him step into his jeans and pull a t-shirt over his head, that was understandable. As John worked to get Dean clothed again, he spoke, "I spoke to Dr. Hibberd. I guess Dr. Adams was called away to a birth. It's going to be okay. The surgery is very safe for you and your baby. I know it isn't what you wanted, but the important thing to me is that you'll be safe."

 

***

 

They didn't talk about it during the whole car ride back to Mount Pleasant. Dean just sat there, his eyes vacant, his jaw set hard. He didn't talk unless asked a direct question, and then, he answered only the minimum, yes, no, okay. Not even Sam could get Dean to respond more than a word or two. Eventually, both the boys drifted to sleep and he thought a little about the years where this happened all the time, him driving, his boys both fast asleep, breathing soft and deep, troubles, for that moment, forgotten.

The diagnosis the doctor had given him still rung in John's ears. Not a chance of delivering naturally, ever. Not just this pregnancy, but apparently this thing was congenital and it didn't get better. Not to worry, it wouldn't affect their daughter. It was sex linked to Omegas, though there was a fifty percent chance she might be a latent carrier. That meant, John thought, that this was another one of Mary's legacies, that Dean had gotten it from her. 

It wasn't that Dean couldn't have other children. They'd just have to be c-sectioned too, and there were limits on how often they could cut open the same uterus. Three years recovery between each baby, minimum. Four would be better if you could wait, maybe five even. I wouldn't let him carry more than maybe two more children, if he were my Omega, Dr. Hibberd had said. Even that was selfish of John, as far as the doctor was concerned. Just one more would be ideal. Waiting until several years had passed and his Omega was in his mid twenties before they tried again would be best. Then John realized why the doctor had been lecturing him like that. Because there would be Alphas who pressed their Omegas to produce children anyway, without regard for the Omegas health. Showing the world that the Alpha was potent was more important to some of them than the life and health of the Omega they professed to love. So, John had asked, "How soon after the birth can he have an IUD placed?" 

Because knowing Dean, he'd want to push himself, do whatever he thought it would take to please his Alpha and though he'd promised to give Dean as many or as few children as he wanted during their claiming, this choice might have to be taken away from him, for his health. 

His phone rang as they got to the outskirts of Mount Pleasant. He shook his head as the caller id identified it as Bobby, someone he hadn't heard from in months at this point.

"Not a good time, Bobby," John said into the phone. "I'm not available for any hunts." 

"Well hello and nice to hear from you too," Bobby said, snappish and even more surly than usual. "I'm doing you a solid, John. Some idjit opened up a minor Hell gate just south of Reno. Only let loose a couple dozen demons, far as we can tell, before me and Bill Harvelle shut it down. We've got hunters on the look out for them, but it's been decades since this many demons walked the earth. I just wanted to let you know, so you could take precautions for you and yours. You need me to swing your way, show you that Devil's trap again? I'm in Nevada and heading east"

"I don't think that's a good idea. We're out of the life," John said. It wasn't that he wouldn't be glad to see the man, but Bobby knew them as father and sons. He wouldn't understand. He'd make assumptions. Think the things most people thought. He could be plain out dangerous to the life they'd built here. 

"Well, you might be out of the life, but it's not out of yours. You need to take precautions while these creatures are stalking the earth."

"I've got the devil's trap in my notebook," John said. "It'll be at the all the entrances to the house by sunset."

"We've got a new charm, found it in my research. Anti-possession symbol. Seems to be a hundred percent effective. You'll want me to get that to you. Works best tattooed directly onto the skin. I'd get it onto you and the boys, soon as you can. How are the boys? How's Dean? Baby born yet?"

"Not yet, soon though," John said, keeping close lipped, not just for Dean's sake, but because he didn't want to encourage this conversation. He wanted to get off the phone and get taking care of his Omegas. They were pulling into the driveway of the house on Joy Street.

"John, I know you dropped out of the life, but there's no need for you to cut me out of your life too. You know I love those boys as if they were my own. No matter what, I want to see them again. Even if you've done something you think I might not forgive you for."

"What are you trying to say, Bobby?"

"I always knew you were closer to those boys than was healthy, and I know that Dean's been in love with you since he was a pup. And if maybe he made an offer and you couldn't say no, well that wouldn't be the first time in the world it's happened. Nobody talks about it, but it's not as uncommon as you'd think, for an Alpha father to claim an Omega son. No, it ain't healthy, but it's no reason to keep me from those boys."

"I love them, Bobby. The both of them. No one in this town knows they're my sons and I want to keep it that way. This town is good for them."

"Both of them? Jesus, you are a piece of work, Winchester. Don't worry. I won't wreck your happy home. I just want to see you all again," Bobby said. "Where are you?"

"Utah," John said. "I have to go. We've just had some upsetting news about Dean's pregnancy. I've got to take care of him. He's more than a little broken up about it."

"Baby okay?"

"Baby's fine, but Dean can't deliver naturally. We just scheduled his c-section. He's taking it hard," John admitted. 

"I have to make a stop in Utah anyway. I'll be there by the morning, call you for directions then. I'll let you get to your boys."

As John was pocketing his phone again, Sam woke up and hurled himself out of the car.

"Daddy?" he asked. "Was that Bobby?"

"Yeah, Baby, it was," John said. "Can you help me get Dean inside?"

He thought he might even need to carry Dean, the way he'd been acting, but when he shook Dean's shoulder, his Omega grimaced at just being awake, then squared his shoulders and stalked back into the house on his own. Well as much as he could, his pregnant belly weighing him down. For the first time John noticed just what Dean wasn't doing. There wasn't any of the late pregnancy waddle that you expected to see. Yeah, Dean's hips were as narrow as ever. 

"I'm going to go to Verna's," Sam said. He moved a little slow, still sleepy from his nap, and he moved a little cautiously, as if he was kind of tender from the insertion of his semi-permanent birth control. "I think Dean needs you all to himself right now. Call me when Bobby gets here or if Dean wants me."

"Are you sure, Baby? Maybe you should stay here," John said. Maybe he was just being selfish, wanting Sam around more. His baby boy had been home since Friday afternoon and it'd felt so good, with him around. Like they were back they way they used to be, but better. Plus, Sam needed tending to as well. Sam would, no doubt, be having cramps, like the doctor said he might. "I won't stop you, of course, but I'd like it if you were here, and I think your brother needs you."

Sam let himself be talked into staying, for a while at least. His sweet baby boy, with his tousled hair that was growing longer, almost to Omega length now, would be home for another night at least. They walked into their house together, in the back door and up half a flight of steps into the kitchen. 

Where Dean was furiously chopping vegetables already. He must have started as soon as he'd gotten into the house. 

"Dean, stop!" John said. "What are you doing? You should be resting."

"I'm cooking dinner. Why should I rest? I'm not tired," Dean said, though he was obviously lying. He had the worst poker face in the world, Dean did. He looked exhausted, on the verge of breaking down into tears. John stepped forward and he laid a gentle hand, first the forearm of Dean's knife hand, then sliding it down until Dean allowed himself to be relieved of the big knife he was using to cut up the carrots. Then John gathered Dean into his arms and held his quivering, angry boy close. He pulled Dean's head close to his, so that Dean's face rested in the crook of his nest and John's nose was buried in Dean's hair. He sniffed Dean's hair, got a whiff of the herbal shampoo that Dean used, but also smelled something milky about him and he still smelled sort of fresh and cold, like the snow. He realized, he loved Dean more than he ever had anyone else, that it cut him to the bone to see Dean suffering like this. 

"I want you to rest, Dean," John said. "You need it."

"I need to take care of things. I need to make dinner," Dean said. "What else have I got but taking care of you and Sammy?"

"That shouldn't be your whole life. It shouldn't be the only thing."

"You know, my whole life, I have done everything that was ever asked of me. You needed me to be your little soldier, so I was. You needed me to act like a boy, like a Beta. Like a man. You needed a good act from me, so you got it. I pushed down everything about being me, until I hardly knew who I was and I was crushed under it. Acting like a man, it's like wearing a straightjacket to me or something. I'm trapped and I don't know how to get out of it and it's heavy. But the only thing I knew about being Omega and being who I was, was sex and that someday, I'd be able to have babies. So I held on to that, hard as I could. I just knew that once I started having babies, I'd be free of being. I don't know. Free of being the outside me, free of being the man you needed me to be. Then we get here, and things start getting better. I think you understand now maybe. You start to lift the burdens you put on me all those years ago. You let me be what I am, finally. But the thing I've clung to all these years. That's gone. I can't have babies now. So what am I going to do? How do I be the me I'm supposed to be without babies?"

As he listened to his Omega pour the frustrations of years out, John's heart broke. He'd had good reasons, he'd always thought, for making Dean and Sam into Beta boys, as far as the world was concerned. It was safer. The world was dangerous. That's why he'd taught them to be hard and to fight and wield fists and weapons. He'd had no choice but to put himself into dangerous situations, where he might not walk away. He had never been able to bear the thought of two delicate, sensitive Omegas, alone in the world. So he'd tried to make them hard. And he had just made it worse. He'd burdened them down like that for an illusory sense of safety.

It suddenly occurred to him why Dean had been so afraid to tell John the news that he was pregnant. It wasn't just that Dean would be bucking social mores, by having been unclaimed and pregnant. He had to have known that John didn't care about that. It wasn't that he was afraid that John would think him stupid for having messed up with birth control. Dean had been, in essence, letting John know that he was rejecting the gender he'd been asked to grow up as. He had been insisting on his Omega nature for the first time, something John had been too thick, to caught up in his own head to see. 

"Dean, I know I asked too much of you when you were growing up," John said.

"Taking care of Sammy for you was the only good thing about growing up," Dean said. "It kept me sane."

When John had always talked before about how he had asked too much of Dean, he'd always meant about how much of the burden of Sammy's care Dean had been asked to take. Dean had been the one there, for bathing, for seeing that Sammy ate, got to sleep. got read bedtime stories. John had always assumed this was a burden to Dean, a heavy weight, because honestly, he had found it so for himself. It was not the kind of nurturing that had come naturally to him. 

"No, that's not what I meant. I'm just beginning to see now about the other things, how I was wrong to raise you like a Beta. But listen, I don't know what the doctor said to you to make you think that you can't have any more babies after this, but it's not true. You can have them by c-section too and you're not limited to only one of those. Maybe you can't have as many as you would like, but there will be more babies. There's this one," John said, putting his hand on the bump that would soon become his daughter. "Then two more, separated by some years, so your body can recover fully. Maybe we could talk the doctor into a fourth child for you, since you're young and otherwise healthy. You don't have to be like Peter Darvish to be an Omega."

"You want more than just three, maybe four kids from me. I know you do," Dean said. 

"I went years thinking there wouldn't be any more kids at all for me. Even just one more kid, that's a miracle to me. Even if I were to have this house, this life, and you as my wife and bitch, without any kids, that'd be a blessing. Three or four kids? That'll be amazing."

And a lot more realistic than his fantasies of a dozen kids. Because while Vern paid him well, he was, in the end, just an auto mechanic in a small Utah town and while big families were the norm here, you could also see the families who struggled under all those kids. Not every family was headed by Lyle Darvish who owned an successful construction firm and was worth a lot more money than he looked. You could see the families with nine kids packed into three bedroom houses, the kids in worn out, shoddy clothes passed down from kid to kid to kid, the older kids looking as worn out from helping as the mother was.

Three kids sounded just right, honestly. Maybe another couple from Sammy somewhere down the line, if he ever got back into the baby hungry state of mind. They'd never be able to support many more than that on his salary. Not without a lot of comforts being cut out. Three was about right for this house on Joy Street, with its four bedrooms.

"You are more than a breeder to me," John said. "Far, far more. I love you and I want you to find out who you are as an Omega without feeling like babies is the only answer."

"It's a big part of the answer," Dean said. "It always will be."

"Three, four kids. That's still a lot of babies," John said. "And you'll probably enjoy each of them more if you're not having another while they're still a baby."

"I want more than three," Dean said. 

"We'll see. Maybe you'll have just one more and decide that's enough. What's important to me, more than any potential babies is your health.That's my final word, as your Alpha, that your health comes first. Do you understand?"

Dean nodded.

"Now, I think what we need tonight is movie night, don't you? Pizza, Chuck Norris, licorice. No, not Norris. Swayze tonight, right? Which one is your favorite?"

His Omega son's crush on Patrick Swayze had always been obvious, though he'd tried hard to hide it, switching channels suddenly when John walked in the room and he'd been watching "Ghost" or "Dirty Dancing." The movie rental place in town had kind of a limited selection, but they could probably come up with one of the Swayze movies. 

"Dirty Dancing," Dean said, with a downward look and a flush to his face, as if he were admitting something dirty, some embarrassing sexual kink or something. 

"I'll see if the rental place has it," John said, lifting his Omega's chin up. 

"No need," Dean said, still flushed. "I've got it on VHS. Had it for years."

John thought about what that meant. That he hadn't even known what his son's favorite movie was. That that same movie was something that he'd found it worth keeping hidden, stashed away in his couple of bags, even as bulky as VHS tapes were and that despite the fact that they'd always been living out of each other's back pockets, that John hadn't run across it by accident. Dean had been deliberately hiding it from him. What else didn't he know about his Omega?

"Okay," John just said, not wanting to make a thing out of it. "Before I go get a pizza, could you find out if Sammy needs anything. Like if he's cramping. I don't think he'd tell me. Or if he's bleeding and needs me to buy supplies while I'm out."

"Wait? You, John Winchester, an Alpha, are going to walk right into a drug store and buy pads?"

"If my Omega needs them, I'll buy them," John said. Why should any aspect of taking care of his Omega make him embarrassed? "Make a list of things you want or need while I call in our order."

***

Sam woke up mid-morning, alone in the big bed he'd been sharing with Daddy and Dean. There was the scent of coffee drifting all the way upstairs. He shook himself as he realized it was a Tuesday and he wasn't in school. No one had tried to wake him up. The cramps had been pretty bad last night and he'd spent most of the night curled up around a heating pad while Daddy and Dean had cuddled up for a movie night, but Sam had figured he'd have to go to school anyway today. The cramps were pretty much gone at the moment, so he popped out of bed easily and reached for the clothes he'd discarded the night before. He didn't have any more fresh ones here, would have to go back to Verna's for them. Should go back anyways. She'd be worried about him and lonely, probably. 

Someone was in the kitchen, talking with Dean. Sam listened carefully at the foot of the stairs, just outside of the kitchen. The other voice, it was deep, rumbly, tired and cranky sounding. It took a moment for Sam to place it, but then as soon as he did, he burst through to the kitchen.

"Bobby!" he shouted and just about launched himself at the man sitting at the kitchen table across from Dean. He only held back when he remembered, Bobby knew them from before, knew that Daddy wasn't just his Daddy, but also, his real father. Sam looked to Dean for a clue. Did Bobby know? If so, what did he know exactly? What was he planning to do with that knowledge? 

Dean was sitting casually at the table, cup of coffee in front of him. He knew the question Sam was trying to ask and he said, "It's okay, Sam. I was just telling Bobby about our lives here and how happy we are."

Bobby stood up and grabbed Sam into one of those awkward hugs that people liked to give people they haven't seen in a long, long time. But it was okay, because it was Bobby and there was a lot of genuine love in that hug and though Sam had thought he'd known how much he'd missed seeing Bobby, he hadn't really known. It just felt so good to have those arms wrapped around him.

"You've grown since I last saw you," Bobby said, touching the top of Sam's head. 

"Doesn't feel that way," Sam complained. "I'm still the shortest in my class. That includes the girls."

"You'll get there," Bobby promised.

Dean got up and got the coffee pot again, offered Sam his first cup and Bobby a cup that was at least his second.

"Did you tell him that coffee's decaf because you're knocked up?" Sam asked, only a little bitterly, because not only could he not get his favorite triple red-eye anywhere in town, here at this one of his homes, he couldn't get regular coffee at all. Daddy switched over to decaf too, to be nice to Dean. Sam would have to make a trip into town if he wanted caffeine today. He'd skipped it yesterday, because of the doctor's appointment.

"It's fine, Sam," Bobby said. "I'm about to find a place to crash anyway. I've been running on nothing but coffee, no sleep but a few naps for the last forty-eight hours."

"Were you on a hunt?" Sam asked, more than a little curious, perking up a little just to hear about a hunt. When Dean got pregnant, then they settled here, into such a mostly, well, you couldn't call it normal, but you could call it a settled life, Sam had mostly been grateful. This was the chance he'd always wanted. 

But there was a little part of him that missed the hunts. He'd been good at it, even though he'd just been getting started. He'd put a silver bullet through the heart of a werewolf last summer, not just any werewolf, but a loup garou, so much bigger, more powerful, harder to kill than a regular werewolf. He was the one who'd found out how to kill it when regular silver bullets hadn't worked. He'd researched the lore. He'd helped Dad melt down one of the last things they'd had from their mom- a silver charm bracelet Sam had been found clutching after she was gone from the house. You could only kill a loup garou with silver inherited from a family member. So it'd been Sam who had to make the shot, because neither Dean nor Dad had ever inherited silver. That ring Dean wore, that everyone assumed was silver was really white gold. It'd been terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, fearing what would happen if he'd missed. So, yeah, he didn't want to be a hunter, but he missed it too.

"Yeah, hell of a hunt, literally," Bobby said. "Some idjit thought he could grab him some demonic power, so he opened a portal to hell just outside Reno. It wasn't open long, but a couple dozen demons strolled on out before we could stop them."

"Demons are real?" Sam asked. He'd thought they were just stories. Not every creature you found in the lore, in the stories, was real. Dad always said that no one had seen a real demon for decades, maybe even hundreds of years.

"Bet your sweet ass they're real, and mostly they're locked away in Hell, forever and ever, so they're real pissed off when they get here," Bobby said. 

"How do you kill one?" Sam was fascinated and he sat down with them at the table, all ears and suddenly very glad that he had been left to sleep and had missed school that day. 

Bobby took off his grubby trucker hat, scratched his head, put the hat back on and said, "Far as I know, you can't kill a demon, but you can send him back to hell, which is just as good."

"How?"

Sam wanted to know. Maybe he wasn't so wild about driving all over the states, tracking down these creatures, doing the actual killing of them. But he'd loved the research, learning about them, digging through old texts, hoping to find just one nugget of truth, one fact that was real about them in the midst of all the stories. That was the thing that had ended when their hunting life had that he missed the most. He was hungry, he thought, for some lore. Daddy had put his notebook away some place and Sam hadn't seen it since October. Just because they had this life and this house and normal plans, did that mean that they had to pretend that the monsters didn't exist any more?

"Well, it turns out the Catholics were right about a few things. The Rituale Romanum is the best weapon we have against them," Bobby said. 

Then he dug in his bag and pulled up a notebook. It wasn't quite as detailed as Dad's notebook had been, nor as fancy. It was kind of a glorified filofax, but with lots of loose bits that Bobby shoved back into it. He opened to some pages towards the back and he showed Sam what he knew, about the key of Solomon and Devil's traps. Told him about the black eyes and about holy water. Showed him the Rituale Romanum and let him copy it down. Dean eventually got bored and left to find something else to do. 

Time spent talking with Bobby was something Sam always valued, because a lot of people didn't value it. Bobby's gruff appearance, the rough plaid shirts and grubby trucker hats got a lot of people confused, thrown off. He looked like the kind of guy that had never graduated high school. Like a truck driver or a mechanic. Or like he owned a junk yard and ran a tow truck. Which he did, but there was so much more to Bobby than that. Under the rough exterior, Bobby was actually a very learned man, Sam knew. Much smarter than he looked. He could talk in Japanese and read Greek and Latin, even get by a little in the other Biblical languages like Hebrew and Aramaic. He knew lore better than anyone Sam knew, better than Dad even. He knew all of that and he knew practical stuff, like how to fix cars and run a backhoe. 

Hours passed and Bobby must have been exhausted, but he still let Sam pester him with dozens of questions, until he finally said, "That's all I got. You're a very smart boy, Sam. You want more, you know how to go looking for it."

"The library in this town sucks," Sam complained. He liked it here, but the library was definitely distinctly lacking and when he tried to head for the regular stacks, the librarians had always very pointedly told him that the young adult section was upstairs.

"You're happy here otherwise?" Bobby asked. "I know a man's got to have access to a good library to be truly happy. But otherwise? Your Dad treating you good? Don't worry, I'm not here to break up your home. I just need to know for myself that he's treating you. Well, treating you as good as could be expected, under the circumstances."

Sam wanted to say just how he felt about Daddy, how good it felt to be with him, how good he was for Dean, he wanted to say a million things but in the end, he just said, "He's good for me. I know you probably don't think that could ever be possible, but it's true."

"I just remember you and your brother Dean, as little tykes, running all over my house. You know what you argued about most? Which one of you was going to get to marry your daddy when you grew up."

"Dean already got to marry him first," Sam said, feeling the little, usual, twinge of jealousy. "I just hope there's still room for me when I'm ready."

"Well, I'm glad you're not rushing into it. Not to say anything against Dean's choice, because babies are a good thing and he seems happy, but there's a lot of things that can be done with your life. An Omega doesn't have to have an Alpha and babies at all for him to feel fulfilled. He can run his life the way he likes. Pick and chose where he ends up at on the gender spectrum."

Sam suddenly found himself looking at Bobby in a whole new way. "You're?"

"Just as Omega as you, Sam, only I never got me an Alpha, never felt the need, never wanted babies. A lot of people assume I'm Alpha or Beta because I was never pretty, not even when I was a boy. So if someone ever tells you that your biology, your Omega body, is destiny, you promise me you'll spit in his eye and kick his ass."

All Sam could do was nod, because while people had said this kind of thing to him before. But this was Bobby and Bobby, even more than Daddy, was his hero. And Bobby was Omega like him.

Bobby ended up sleeping a while on their sofa, afghan crocheted by Verna thrown over him, trucker cap set on the coffee table. Dean was in the kitchen, making dinner. Sam tried to work on what he thought would be the work he missed in school while being out both today and the day before. Mostly though, he thought about Bobby. Other hunters looked up to Bobby, he knew. Not just looked up to him, but he was kind of a leader to them. If a hunt needed doing, it was Bobby who found the hunter and sent him there. Dad had followed Bobby's lead before, had gone on hunts that Bobby had found for him. More than that, Bobby knew everything it seemed, lore that no one else did. Most hunters didn't have one other language besides English, much less many of them. Other hunters called Bobby when they didn't know what to do. And he told them. They listened to him. 

Eventually, the day grew dark and his school work was more than done, despite having spent most of his day thinking rather than working. Finally, Daddy came home, with Vern in tow. Bobby had sat up on the sofa, put his trucker hat back on and greeted the two Alphas as confidently as if he were Alpha himself. Sam found himself watching every little gesture that Bobby made and it became apparent, that like Sam, Bobby didn't move the right way, speak the right way or talk the right way for an Omega, but anything he did seemed confident, comfortable for him. You couldn't tell that he was Omega, but there was also nothing about him that said that he wasn't Omega either.

Vern had shook Bobby's hand and said, "Good to see you again, Mr. Singer."

"Can't say as I feel the same, Stamos, but your lot needs to know what I saw and did," Bobby said. "I've already told John what I know, but I can make a formal report if you like."

"John says it's demons? This is typical. You hunters go poking your noses into things you should known darn well better than to poke into. Then when things go wrong, you come crawling for help from those who do know."

"Actually, I think this is one of yours," Bobby said. "You know a man name of Raymond Studdard?"

"I know his daddy, Aaron Studdard. Member of the Salt Lake Chapterhouse," Vern said. "Good man."

"Well, his son Ray was the one that opened up this little Hell gate and spread his mess all over fifty states."

In the end, Bobby and Vern had gone off to speak together, leaving Sam alone in the room with Daddy. "How does Bobby know Vern?" Sam asked.

"Vern's a member of an organization called the Men of Letters," Daddy said and instantly, Sam knew that Daddy was a member of this organization too, even thought he'd never mentioned it once before. "The Men of Letters study the supernatural. They're not like hunters, but sometimes they need help from hunters or hunters need help from them. So they reach out to a few of the hunters like Bobby."

"You're a Man of Letters now?"

"I've just started," John said. "My father was one, apparently. That makes me a legacy."

"That makes me and Dean legacies, too, right?"

The Men of Letters sounded like something Sam would love. Studying the supernatural, not necessarily tracking it down, hunting it all across country. If Vern, and now Daddy, was one of them, then that meant you could fight evil and still have a home, a normal life. It sounded instantly like someplace he belonged.

Daddy frowned a little and his eyes, always heavy lidded, seemed to get even heavier for a moment, "I'm sorry, Sammy, he said. "All the Men of Letters are Alphas."

 

***

 

Dean looked at his hospital bag, sitting next to him on the bed, all packed up, ready to go. This was it. This was the day. He was going to walk into that hospital, then they were going to cut him open. And he was going to have a baby. He should grab the bag, walk down to the car. Only he'd been refusing to move for an hour now. He'd been crying like some kind of baby, because this wasn't how it was supposed to have gone. This wasn't supposed to be how he was having his baby. 

He was supposed to be giving birth to her naturally, not even any pain meds. He'd been ready for that. He'd taken the classes, he'd read the books. He'd talked about it so much with Peter. His hips had even shifted and spread, just a little. Except one thing. In the two weeks between the previous appointment and his last one, the baby had shifted inside him. She'd somehow, in that time, gone from a perfect head-down, facing the spine position to frank breech. Given that his hips had only spread to 'just barely wide enough we'll give you a brief trial of labor', they weren't even willing to discuss him delivering a breech baby. So, despite his brief hope that it might be otherwise, he was still going in for his c-section. He thought he'd been okay with it. He thought he'd resigned himself to this, because it was his only option. But here he was, weeping over his failure again.

It was Valentine's Day too, which was a holiday he never thought he cared much one way or the other for, but it seemed unfair that he was going to spend it first getting cut open, then in a hospital bed, recovering. 

Sam came in, sprawled himself all over the bed, then laid his head against Dean's leg. 

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know you wanted it to be different."

Sam was about the fourth person to come in this morning, to convince him to get moving. The other three, John, Peter and Jessamyn had each tried to give him a pep talk, about how wonderful it would be when his baby got here and why did it matter how she got here, and that the important thing was that they were both okay in the end. Sam was the first one to just say that he was sorry. Somehow, that was more important than anything else, because yeah, he knew that it was more important that his girl got here than how, but it was like everyone else was saying that the how didn't matter at all. 

"We don't always get what we want, do we?" Dean asked, as he ran his fingers through Sam's hair. It'd gotten long enough that he was starting to wear it in a pony tail sometimes, but right now it was loose and all over the place. Dean had thought about growing his own hair out to a more Omega appropriate length, but he hadn't yet. He'd been used to keeping his hair this way all his life. It seemed more like him. 

"Nope," Sam said. "But you know, I never thanked you for getting knocked up. You know, if you hadn't, we'd probably still be out there, on the road, dragged from motel to motel. I think since you got pregnant, we started getting at least what we needed."

"The way your reproductive system was acting up, you might have ended up pregnant not long after I did," Dean said. "We might still have ended up here."

"Yeah, but Dad wouldn't have listened to me if I'd said I wanted to keep a baby. He would have taken me to a state where abortion was legal and made me get one. I'd have been put on the pill and we'd still be where we were. I'm glad it was you first," Sam said. "You always make things better for me. I love you, Dean."

"I love you too, Sammy," Dean said. "You think I should just suck it up and get this over with?"

"You are acting like a girl," Sam said. 

"I am a girl, Sam. Kind of. Sort of half a girl anyway," Dean said, trying to articulate something he'd been thinking about for weeks now. He wished he had half the brain that Sam did. Sam would be able put this thought together in minutes. "I'm really Omega, like more Omega than you. That's why this is hard, because I'm so Omega and we're supposed to be able to give birth easily, like even easier than women."

"Even Omegas have problems giving birth sometimes. If they didn't, would there be a whole medical specialty for it?"

"I guess not," Dean said. "I should get up and just go do this thing, right?"

"Yeah, c'mon, you're worrying Daddy. He's just about beside himself," Sam said. 

So Dean found it in himself to wipe his face off on his sleeve. He stood up, slowly, because his belly was just that huge. He grabbed his bag and made his way downstairs where John waited with the small crowd of their closest friends. Vern and Verna, Peter and Jessamyn, LeeLee. Bobby. They all looked expectantly at him and he just about turned around and headed back up the stairs again. But Sam was behind him and he was already most of the way downstairs anyway.

"You ready to go, Dean-o?" John asked. That was his nickname from childhood, but not just any nickname. It was what Dad had always called him when he'd been brave, when he'd done good. When he'd taken care of Sammy. When he'd made the shot. It was approval and love, all in one simple nickname. 

"Yeah, let's go kick this thing in the ass," Dean said, suddenly able to smile. Suddenly almost okay with this. Because they were right, what did it matter how she got here? In less than eight hours, he'd be holding his baby girl in his arms. It'd be worth a little failure, a lot of pain and even more letting go to have that. 

He still felt like he was going to throw up, pretty much the whole way to the hospital in Salt Lake City, but once he got to the hospital and things got rolling, he was pretty much able to be calm. He traded his clothes for the hospital gown, let them shave the top area of his pubes and the downy, blondish hairs of his treasure trail. A nurse came in and put an IV into him. A doctor came in and started to talk to him about pain control options. He just nodded, not really caring what they used. Only, suddenly, it came to him as the doctor talked. He'd still be awake for this most likely. Maybe it was that he hadn't listened when the other doctor had explained, but he'd assumed he'd be put completely under. That it would have to be general anesthesia. He thought he'd necessarily have to miss the birth, by virtue of pain management. He'd be there, he thought. Awake, aware. Maybe his birth was something that would still happen to him rather than by his efforts, but he would be there, part of it. 

"How soon after the birth can I hold her?" he asked.

"Almost immediately," he was told. While they were still stitching him up even, assuming all went well.

"Then, I don't care what kind of drugs you use on me, so long as that can happen," Dean said. 

A short while later, he was in an operating room, Alpha sitting near his head, just to the right, Sammy just behind him. Dean had insisted on that. No one had wanted to allow it, that supposedly Sam was too young. But Sam had wanted it and it was almost more important to Dean that Sam be there than their Alpha. Both of them were gowned up, just like the other people in the room. He wished John could hold his hand, but his arms had been placed on and strapped to these arm rests. John stroked his forehead and whispered, "Not long now," to him and that was nearly just as good. 

The lower half of his body was cut off. Like there was some big drape starting just below chest level, so he couldn't see it or what anyone on the other side was doing. Not that he could feel that other half of his body either. Earlier, he'd been asked to lie on his side, curl up so that his shoulders reached to his knees, or at least as much as he could, anyway. Then there'd been a momentary, sharp pain, then nothing. His toes, his legs, his whole lower half was suddenly numb to the point where they didn't even seem to be there. He hadn't thought the anesthesia would be that fast, that complete. 

"What's going on?" Dean asked as he did feel a little something, just like a tugging, a pulling apart. 

On the other side of the drape, he could hear someone say, "We've got girl parts here," and then someone else said, "A lot of hair on this one."

So, she had to be out of him by now, so he asked, as clearly as he could through the oxygen mask on his face, "Can I see? Please?"

A nurse pulled the drape thing down just a little, just enough for him to see a red covered baby being lifted up, cord still attached. There was a still moment where everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath, to stop what they were doing, until suddenly the baby moved, opened her mouth, took in a big breath herself, then screamed a lusty cry. Not just lusty- it was triumphant sounding. She was announcing herself to the world. She was all right. She had to be with a set of lungs like that. Then everyone was moving again, the nurses, the doctors were each doing something. This might have been an extraordinary day for Dean, but this was routine for them and in its own way, that was reassuring to him. He took a deep breath. Everything was going to be okay. She was here.

***

John watched Dean take a deep breath and visibly relax as he heard his daughter cry out her first breaths. Not a moment later, Dean had seemed, not exactly pained, but uncomfortable, as if he was under some emotional duress. Now though, he looked serene, at peace with this. For John, there hadn't been any one else in this room except his Omega, not until his daughter made her presence known. 

Soon after, someone was calling to him, asking him if he wanted to cut the cord, and he was led by the elbow to where a squirming, squalling baby waited, wrapped up only in a white receiving blanket. The worst of the blood had been cleaned off her already, but they'd have to separate her from Dean before they could do much more. The cord that joined them still pulsed a little with Dean's heartbeat, but that ended as they tied it off. It was thicker than he remembered them being, but still seemed like it was a fragile thing to have sustained a life for nine months. The scissors were put in his hand and he was directed to make the cut. His daughter cried again, as if realizing that she was truly separate now from the womb that had sustained her for so long. They took her away again, just briefly, just to the other side of the room, so she could be measured, evaluated, cleaned. They put a diaper, the hospital wristband and one of those little caps on her. Then they swaddled her in a clean receiving blanket and put her into his arms. 

She was not quite anything he'd ever seen before. Yes, he'd held his two boys minutes after birth, but they hadn't been so finely wrought, he thought, so beautiful. They'd been bald and kind of squished looking in their first hours. But she had a thick head of light brown hair, the same color as Dean's visible under her little white cap and she was so perfect. She was so tiny as he held her against his chest, it felt like she might just disappear and that just made him want to hold her more tightly to him. He walked her over to Dean.

Sam had taken his place on the stool at Dean's head, stroking his cheeks and forehead, but he scrambled out of it immediately. John sat down, touched Dean's face and said, "She's here."

He couldn't lay her on Dean's chest, not just yet. On the other side of the surgical drape, soft counting was going on. They must be counting the surgical implements, making sure that they hadn't missed a clamp or a scalpel. That must have meant they were nearly finished. He couldn't put her in Dean's arms yet, but he held her up against Dean's face, into the crook of his neck. John had never seen Dean so fully undone, so fully unguarded in his expression, not even in months of hormone induced crying, not during sex. He was crying, but his expression was so lifted, so blissful that John thought of pictures of saints in ecstatic trances. 

"You did it," John said. "She's perfect."

Then the medical personnel got busy again, moving Dean unto a gurney. They asked if Dean wanted to hold his baby, so with a nurse's help, he laid her right on Dean's chest, skin to skin, under the hospital gown, and they rolled him away to the recovery room.

Suddenly, Sam, forgotten for just the moment, was by his side, looking solemn, but maybe even a little queasy.

"I peeked on the other side, just a little," Sam said. "Before they closed him up. When they were taking out the placenta. I don't care what my body says about wanting babies, I am never doing that. Ever."

He wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulder, squeezed him tight as they walked out of the operating room together. "You'll probably change your mind again, sweetie. Just three months ago, you were begging me to put a baby into you."

"That was just my hormones talking, Daddy. Seriously, I've never seen anything so gross," Sam said. 

It occurred to John that Sam had seen a lot more than a boy of his age normally ever had, had even killed before, albeit a monster. "There's a reason they put the surgical drape up, Sammy," John said. "Anyway, the result is worth it. Did you see her?"

Sam did grin at this, "Yeah. She's all right, but did you see Dean's face?"

By the time they let him into the recovery room, Dean and his new baby were together, the baby laid against his chest and she was nursing, suckling strongly already. He looked sleepy and happy, beaming even. He looked up when he saw John.

"So, hey, I was thinking. I know we said we'd call her Mary, but she's not a Mary," Dean said. "It just doesn't seem right for her."

It didn't, John agreed. It seemed unfair to saddle her with the name of a woman long dead. "What were you thinking? Who is our baby girl?"

"Maybe this is stupid, because it's the street where we live, but I was thinking Joy. What do you think, Alpha?"

He took a look at the baby girl, contentedness seeming to pour from both her and Dean. No, for Dean, it was more than that. Joy poured from them, just like it was pouring from his heart at this moment. John thought of the people waiting back at home to hear the news, of how happy they would be, of how they'd been welcomed into this place. He thought of how bleak life had been, not so very long ago, when an animated dead woman's body had haunted and hunted him and his boys. How it hadn't been putting her to a final death that had brought him peace, nor had it been saving other lives from creatures like her. It had been only life, a new, shared life that had brought him peace. Yes, Mary had been Dean's mother and had brought him forth, the way Dean had brought forth his daughter today, but what had really given Dean life, had saved that life, was this place, this town, the love of the people who had welcomed them here. And if someone thought it strange that they picked the name of the street they lived on, well, there was a lot that a lot more strange about their little family. Why not name her after the house on Joy Street, where she would grow up in peace, not haunted by ghosts of the past?

"I can't think of any name more perfect," John said. 

 

***

Sam's feet pounded the pavement, again and again. His breath, puffed white clouds in the early morning chill, was finally catching in his side as he ran, just the start of a stitch, but he pushed himself harder as he came up on the old cabin just outside of town, where'd they first lived when they'd come to Mount Pleasant. That meant it was just another ten minutes left to his run. His legs had gotten gangly in the years since they'd moved here, some days it seemed a wonder to him that he could control them at all, that they were that long, that there was that much distance from brain to foot. But the long legs meant he covered a lot of ground with each stride.

In the five something years since they'd moved to Mount Pleasant, he'd grown. A lot. He was as tall as Daddy now, something that amused the man, but had meant the end to being lifted and carried. It meant that when he sat himself in Daddy's lap, he had to be careful, had to mostly support his weight on his own. Six foot two and probably still with a couple of inches to go. It meant he towered over the other Omegas in this town, even Dean, who, until Sam had shot past him, was considered to be something of a giant. Hell, he was taller than all but a few of the Alphas. It meant he couldn't shop at the Omega shops anymore, but he didn't care. It didn't bug him that people talked, just like it didn't bug him that he was one of the last ten Omegas left in his high school class, out of the fifty that had started. The rest were already claimed, most with babies already. He was seventeen and people talked about him as if he were some kind of spinster, like he was long past claimable age. He'd had a pretty active dating life, in addition to his time with Daddy, until last year, when he passed five ten in height and it became obvious that he was sixteen and not planning on settling down any time soon. His height had moved him automatically out of the 'pretty' category and into the freak category. The offers to go out had dwindled at first. 

Then had come the day that Rufus Sayfert had decided he going to publicly and forcefully try and claim Sam on the day of Rory's wedding. Sam hadn't seen any reason not to kick his ass in front of everyone, if only for the reason that it ruined Rory's day, not to mention the whole attempted rape and forcible bonding thing. The law authorities had pretty much decided that while, amazingly enough, a forcible claim like that wasn't necessarily illegal in Utah, because the forms had been followed, Sam was still within his rights to defend himself against it. Beside, Sayfert had been an outsider, one of the groom's friends who'd taken a violent desire to have Sam, not knowing that Sam was halfway to claimed already. It'd literally taken five grown men to sit on Daddy and stop him from finishing the job that Sam had started. The court of public opinion at the high school, though, had pretty much tried Sam and found him guilty. His peers thought he should have just laid back and taken it, waited for some Alpha to rescue him, which obviously, someone totally would have if he'd just waited a minute or two, but he probably would have had Sayfert's unwrapped cock in him by that point, maybe even a knot. After that day, Sam had pretty much had zero dates, zero romantic interest in him, besides Daddy, of course. His classmates talked about him as if he were unnatural. 

Not that the lack of dates bugged him. He'd played the field a little. He hadn't found anyone better than Daddy, not in this town anyway. What did bug him was how everyone, except Daddy, was pushing him to settle down, let himself get claimed by the man. Even Verna was dropping hints it might be time for him to move back home. He wasn't ready yet. He had plans. He had things he wanted to do. So what if he was already three years over the average claiming age for the town? He was too damn busy to get claimed and start in on making babies.

He passed the Darvish house, saw Lyle up on a ladder, cleaning out his gutters. He waved, but didn't linger. He'd eventually let Mr. Darvish apologize to him. Not another word had ever been uttered about Sam possibly making a good bitch. More than ever, he was sure this was untrue. Oh, he probably could be broken to it, but it wouldn't be him. It'd be a Sam-shaped creature with shards of Sam still stuck in it. 

He kept running. He shuffled his ipod, hoping for a more heart pounding song to sustain him through his last push for speed and he got "Traveling Riverside Blues", one of Daddy's favorite songs. Wondering just how that got on his ipod, Sam shuffled again, hoping for Bon Jovi or something. He was back in town soon enough, slowing down to a trot as he passed the garage. Vern was retiring, finally, and Daddy had bought the shop from him. He wasn't just a mechanic anymore, but a business owner, and employer. He'd hired a couple of young guys, one part time. It meant he didn't have to work the Saturday morning shift ever again. Past the garage, it was only a few more blocks to the house on Joy Street. 

Sam let himself into the fenced in yard and then into the back door of the house. Daddy was alone, in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the paper. Sam grabbed himself some ice water from the fridge and slammed about ten ounces of it back before he could talk. 

"Good run?" Daddy asked. Sam nodded as he swallowed. 

Sam bent to his ankle. After over five miles, the holster there was rubbing, chafing, but ever since Sayfert and him realizing his safety and freedom wasn't as guaranteed as he'd thought, he pretty much didn't go anywhere unarmed, especially not a run alone, out on the roads outside of town. He unstrapped the velcro, then put the holstered gun into a locked drawer they had by the door, for safe storage, but easy access to their guns. Only John Winchester wouldn't raise an eyebrow seeing his seventeen year old Omega son had been fully armed for a simple run. Sam still had his knife strapped to his other ankle, but the sheathe didn't bother him as much. The knife wasn't as heavy as the Ruger LCP.

"Dean and Joy here?" Sam asked as he rubbed his ankle. As uncomfortable as it had been, he liked it better for running than concealed at the small of his back or under his arm. 

"Playdate with Jodilyn Barton and her mom. They'll be gone a few more hours," John said as he flipped the page of the paper. "You spending the day here?"

"I have to get over to Verna's soon," Sam said. "I promised her I'd help her get the yard ready for winter. We've been lucky the snow has held off this long. She wants to get the Gordon St cabin ready for renters by the end of the week too."

Sam still lived with Verna most of the week. It wasn't that he wasn't ready to move back here, or that he didn't want to be here full time, but Verna was starting to need him. She couldn't quite manage everything on her own anymore. He'd been taking on more and more of the physical work of her property rental business, to the point where she'd felt she'd needed to pay him, at which point, he'd started paying her rent, picking up some of their expenses. Daddy frowned when he realized that Sam wasn't spending the Saturday with them.

"I don't have to be over there until noon though and I'll come back tonight. Spend the night here," Sam said, as his stomach rumbled. He grabbed a protein bar from the cupboard and it disappeared inside him pretty much before he could even taste it really. That was one the things that had sucked about growing so much, so fast. His body demanded a massive amount of fuel during growth spurts. He grabbed another bar and said, "I was going to hit the shower."

Daddy stood up and walked up behind him, wrapped his arms around Sam. Sam relaxed into it as John sniffed him. "No, don't. Not yet," John said and squeezed a little tighter, and in a particular way, not just affection, but lust clear in the touch.

"Not yet?" Sam asked. "I reek."

"You smell like you. Very intensely of you," John said, nuzzling at back of Sam's neck. "It's been a while."

"Three days is not 'a while,'" Sam said, but he smiled and felt himself thicken and stiffen, as Daddy's hands dropped, one to his nipple, one to his lower belly. 

Soon after, they found themselves upstairs, in Sam's room. Sam automatically reached into the bedside table for the box of condoms and put them on top of the table. He caught the slight disappointment in Daddy's eye. It wasn't exactly an issue yet, but Daddy definitely wanted Sam to be ready to go without them. It wasn't babies that were the issue. He was covered for that. But Sam wasn't ready for a knot yet.

"You know why I want you to keep wearing one?" Sam asked. 

"I know. You're not ready for my knot yet," Daddy said. "I'm sorry. I hope I don't seem like I'm pressuring you."

"I'm saving it. For our claiming ceremony. You had my virginity years ago, but at least there will be something new."

Daddy's cock, already hard, twitched at that. John would put him under no pressure to do it, but Sam knew that the instant he asked, John would have him in front of the whole town, in the claiming grounds, knotted and claimed. Sam would be lying to himself if he said that he never thought about getting claimed, about getting his IUD yanked out and letting himself get knocked up. He could finish out the school year with his high diploma before his theoretical due date. He wasn't going to do that though, because he had plans for the following school year that definitely didn't involve babies. Besides, Dean was finally pregnant again, and Sam didn't want to steal a second of the attention that should rightfully be going to him. 

"Sammy," Daddy murmured as he closed the distance between them. He buried his nose into the crook of Sam's neck, drinking in the odor of Sam's sweat and ran his hand's down Sam's flanks, to grab and squeeze Sam's ass. 

"I'll let you bareback in my ass if you want," Sam offered. The knot wouldn't form there, but he would still be able to feel the warmth of fresh come inside him, feel it dripping out. It would't be the first time they'd done that. He liked to save it for special occasions though.

"Is there some kind of anniversary I forgot about?" Daddy asked. Sam had never come out and said he saved it for special occasions, but John noticed things. 

"Not really," Sam said. "But it's been six months since there's been anyone but you in me."

Of course part of that hadn't really been up to Sam, at least not the dating part, but the thing was, he could have gotten tail whenever he wanted it. There were always guys willing to fuck, so long as they didn't have to date him, be seen in public with him. 

"Maybe it's not what you really want to hear yet, but I'm saying I'm ready to be exclusive with you," Sam said. "Well, you and Dean."

"Oh, Sam," Daddy started, then he shut his mouth and got to work telling Sam just how he felt about that in the way he was most truly eloquent- with his body. Even though they were now the same height, Daddy lifted him up and carried him the few feet to the bed. John would probably always be more muscular, broadly build rather than the willow figure Sam had. John laid him out and began tugging Sam's running clothes off. He disarmed Sam the rest of the way, setting Sam's combat knife aside carefully on the bedside table. 

He got Sam naked in moments, completely naked, while, for the moment, he kept his own clothes on. Something about being completely exposed, utterly without concealment, before his fully dressed Daddy made Sam weak, made his dick stand tall, made him feel a certain kind of needy that could only be answered by his Daddy's cock inside of him. So when John started to unbutton his own shirt, Sam said, "No, please."

They'd done it that way often enough that John knew what he was wanting. John kept his shirt on, didn't take his pants off, even though it must have been uncomfortable keeping his monster of a cock on lockdown. The front of his jeans bulged. John's hands stroked and petted him until he was muttering curses, wanting, needing more, until he told Daddy just exactly what he wanted, in detail. 

"The mouth on you," John said. "Such a filthy mouth."

"Make me wash it out with come, Daddy," Sam teased. 

"Do you really want what you were asking for?"

"Yeah." 

Sam whimpered as John flipped him over onto his belly and lifted up his hips, then buried his face in there, began eating him out. Sam felt the broad strokes of Daddy's tongue on his asshole and it was like his body didn't really belong to him any more. It was like he was a puppet controlled by some higher power he didn't see. He backed himself onto John's face, trying to get more, trying to get John's tongue inside of him. They hadn't done this many times yet, only a handful of times each year so Daddy started with a careful single finger, seeking for, then finding his prostate, then another couple of fingers came in from the other direction and it was like electricity all up and down his spine, snapping, crackling until it couldn't help but be released and he was reset to a state of potential energy again. Then it happened again as Daddy added more fingers. 

By the time Daddy unzipped his jeans and tugged them down just enough to free his cock, Sam was feeling almost fucked out, but having that cock inside of him wasn't really optional at this point. Daddy's cock poked out of the fly of his jeans, almost purple with blood. He'd been waiting for nearly half an hour to stick his cock into his boy. And when he slid it into Sam, it was like a part of Sam that was missing had finally come home. It was like he didn't belong any place else other than in this moment, opening himself to the man, letting him in to some secret place. And you would think that it would feel like Daddy was saying, with his body, you belong to me, this all belongs to me. But it wasn't like that. It was like Daddy was saying, I belong here. This is my home. This is where I need to be right now. It wasn't long before Daddy was thrusting hard, in that inevitable way that meant that his coming was close. 

"Fill me with your come, Daddy," Sam said, thinking of the day when he'd finally give in and ask his Daddy to come in his cunt, fill him full of babies even, and that was enough to push him over the edge again, because he wanted that so much. At least for one day. And then Daddy hammered in one last time, stiffened and grunted. Sam could feel Daddy's cock, impossibly deep inside of him, twitching, moving and there was heat inside of him. 

"I love you, Baby," Daddy said, as he slumped against Sam, and for a moment, even though Sam could still feel his body, nearly equal in size to John's, it felt like he was that little guy again, who'd first come to his Daddy and asked for something that he never should have asked for, but that he'd somehow needed. As John pulled out, it was both a relief to have those two hundred plus pounds off his back, and a loss, a sudden emptiness. There was a rightness, these days, in the way their bodies fit together, equal in height if not yet equal in breadth or power.

"Love you, too," Sam said. "I'm not really such a baby anymore, am I? I'm as tall as you now."

"I think you've crept into the territory of just taller than me," John said as he rolled the both of them over onto their backs. Only then did he start undressing, so that they could hold each other in full nakedness. 

"I don't really miss you being so little," John said as Sam traced an old scar on his shoulder with a finger tip. Sam remembered being young, when they were still hunting, seeing his father's bare, marked up torso, just after a shower or while changing shirts, and thinking about how many scars he had, then wondering how long it would be until his own torso was covered with that many scars. Probably never now.

"I feel better knowing you can take care of yourself," John said. There was a lot unsaid in that, but Sam left it alone for the moment. 

"You know you'll always be my Daddy, right?" Sam said. "Even now that I'm as big as you. Even when I'm not your Baby anymore."

"Of course," John said. Then he sat up in bed. "Is there something you're trying to tell me?"

"Yeah," Sam said. He sat up too, reaching past the unused condoms to the letter he'd stuck in drawer there earlier in the week. He hadn't told Daddy about any of this, not about any of his plans, his preparations, not about the applications and the test scores. He hadn't told anyone but Dean. He'd needed Dean's help. Daddy's eyebrow raised a little when he saw that the envelope was from Stanford, and raised even more as he read the early acceptance letter. 

"I don't know if I'll be able to scrape together enough scholarship money to actually go," Sam said. "And I don't know if I even want to go that far from home. I've also got letters from the University of Utah and Brigham Young. If I got a car, I could commute from home."

"You are not going to Brigham Young," Daddy said, instantly and Sam understood. It might have been one of the best schools in the state, but it was LDS, through and through. Then he pressed his lips together and thought a moment. "I don't see what the problem is here. You've been accepted by one of the best schools in the country. I don't see why you're hesitating. Scholarship money or not, we'll make it happen if that's what you want."

"Are you saying you want me to leave you?"

Part of Sam was flying, knowing that John was behind him one hundred percent, but a small, needy part of Sam heard only that Daddy wanted him to go away, that he didn't want Sam so much, so intensely that he would refuse him this. 

"Sammy," John said, and his voice was tight with something, maybe tears even were glimmering in his eyes. "I'm saying I've waited five years for you and what's four more? When I lay you down on that claiming platform, I need to know that there is not a glimmer of doubt in you. I want you to have done everything you want to do. No regrets, no doubts."

"Could you claim me before I go, then let me go anyway?"

"I could, but why do you want to do it that way?"

"I'm just afraid if I go, I won't want to come back. It's better for Omegas in California. I won't have to worry about somebody trying to fucking steal me from myself," Sam said, still feeling the bitterness he'd felt when he'd learned that forced claimings, while frowned on, weren't actually illegal in Utah. 

"Then, no, I won't. I don't want you to have any doubts, none at all," John said. "If you find that it's better for you in California than here, then that's what I want for you."

"And what about Verna? She counts on me for a lot these days," Sam said, thinking of the woman who even though she had hardly known him at the time, had defended him when he'd needed it most, when the only thing he known was that he'd been in danger of losing himself, but that he hadn't known how to stop it from happening.

"I'll see that Verna is taken care of," John promised. "I owe more than I can say to both her and her brother."

"It's a long time," Sam said. "It's not like me living with Verna. I won't be able to just walk down the street and come see you."

"Maybe that's what you need, to not just be able to walk back down the street to me for a while," John said. "It'll go faster than you imagine and then you'll be ready to come back to us and stay. Now, go shower. You do kind of reek."

"In a minute," Sam said, then yawned. Post sex lassitude was catching up with him. He burrowed his face into Daddy's chest and wrapped his arms around Daddy's neck. John shifted so that they were both on their sides and pulled him close. They drifted off into a brief nap together. 

Later, when he was showered and changed, he headed towards Verna's, the route so familiar and well worn he could have walked it blind or asleep. As he passed Rory's house he stopped though. Rory was sitting out on his porch, his two small babies wrapped inside his coat with him. Rory wasn't crying, not right now, but he stared into nothing with a blank, hopeless stare. Or at least he stared with the one eye. The other one was pretty much swollen shut. The babies were crying, but Rory wasn't moving, not doing anything about it but clutching them closer. Sam didn't stop to think, not caring that Rory had once been an enemy but was now something like a friend. He just ran up to Rory's porch and shook him by the shoulder. 

"What's going on, Rory? What happened? Where's Jim?" Sam asked. 

"I don't know. I just don't know. He's gone. I guess. He locked me out. He took my keys and left us out here," Rory said. "This isn't like him. This isn't him. He wouldn't do this."

That caught Sam's attention. He'd always hated Jim, but he'd never seemed like the kind of man that would beat an Omega. Too lazy to bother, Sam thought. Maybe it was just bitterness, but Sam truly hated Jim. He'd overheard John and Vern talking one night when he shouldn't have, when they'd thought him asleep. Jim was offered membership as a Men of Letters. He'd refused it, thought it was nothing but mumbo jumbo, useless and meaningless ritual on nights he could have been watching the game. He'd been offered the thing that Sam craved more than all else and he'd just dropped it under his feet and walked away, like it was trash. 

Regardless of how Sam felt about him, Rory loved the man, and Sam had never seen any indication that Jim was the type of man to hurt Omegas. He was a big, rawboned, powerfully built man, but he'd come home from the military after only one tour, because he was too easy going, too unambitious. Too passive.

Rory had said, 'This isn't him,' and he was probably right. 

Sam sniffed, and he smelled something bad. Like something rotten, sort of. Then his nose placed it. Sulfur. That caught his attention immediately. It was one of the signs. One of the first ones you looked for. 

"How long has Jim not been acting like himself?" Sam asked. Then, even though he wasn't sure he wanted to, he held out his hands for one of Rory's kids. He wasn't going to be able get Rory moving if he had two kids under two wrapped against his chest. He told Rory, "Give me Lylamyn. I'm going to take you to a friend's house, okay?"

He thought about taking Rory back home, so he could grab the Impala and drive him back to Rory's old house, back to Lyle and Jessamyn, but at this point, Verna's was closer, just half a block and across the street. Verna would know what to do about Rory while Sam took care of Jim, or at least found out what was going on with him. It didn't really take much to get Rory moving, walking that half block to Verna's. It was becoming a clear day, but bone numbingly cold and he might have been in shock, but there was very much a part of Rory that recognized that his babies were in danger, being out in it. He handed Lylamyn over to Sam, wrapped Jimmy up tighter in his own jacket. Sam pulled off his coat and wrapped it completely around the eighteen month old, because she had on a little shirt and a pair of padded training panties and that was it, not even socks. 

Sam unlocked the door to Verna's house, calling out her name as he entered her front hallway. She'd been asleep in the living room again, sitting upright on the settee. She jumped as he said her name again, more softly this time. She scrabbled for the pair of bifocals she'd set on the coffee table, dropping the book that had still been in her lap from where she'd dropped it while reading. It was a familiar scene for her, one he'd seen many times, and he smiled at her.

"Sam, honey," she said. "You're early. I was going to call. It's too cold to work in the yard. You go back home to your Daddy today."

"Verna, can Rory and his babies stay here, just until we figure out what's going on with Jim?"

Verna finally took in that Sam was carrying a whimpering toddler, that Rory had stepped into the room just behind him, swollen shut eye and all.

"I'll call Lyle," Verna said, hauling herself up to her feet, not an easy task for her anymore, always bulky, the arthritis was making it even harder for her to move. He hated seeing her struggle. It was something that killed him just about any time he saw it, but it'd be worse if he rushed over to help him. She refused all help, fussed back at him for hours afterwards about how she'd always done just fine on her own, thank you very much. 

"No!" Rory cried out. "He'll kill Jim and this isn't like Jim. It's the first time. It's just the booze or something. I don't know, but it has to be."

"I think a thing's going on here," Sam said, to Verna. Like him, she knew of the Men of Letters, of the supernatural and always been on the outside of it, looking in. Unlike him, she'd never wanted in. 

"A thing kind of thing?" she asked.

"Just let me check it out before you do anything. I'm just going to go back to his house and check for signs of it."

"You be careful," she said, as if he would ever do anything but, then she turned to Rory. "Let's get you an ice pack for that eye."

It took Sam just a few minutes to get back home and find the bag he always kept at the ready with supplies, just some basic needful things. He kept his ankle holster and the LCP on, but he also grabbed the pearl handled .45 from where he kept it in his locked desk drawer. He checked the clip, slid it back into place, double checked the safety, then tucked it into the waist at the back of his pants. Then he went back downstairs. John hadn't been there when Sam had come it, but John was coming up from the basement as Sam was trying to slip out the back door. 

"Forgot my books," Sam said. His ready bag was exactly the same kind of back pack that he used for a school bag. John didn't even blink or hesitate as he asked for and got another goodbye kiss. 

"Make sure you talk about Stanford with Dean tonight," John said. "Dean will be hurt if he thinks you're keeping something from him."

"He knows already," Sam said, then he was back out and heading to Rory's house. 

Rory's house was a colonial style, two stories, big, for the no-doubt dozen or so kids that Rory and Jim were planning on. Sam automatically diverted to the back door. The front door was just too exposed at this time of day, even though he'd probably be in within a minute or so. But the back door had a little enclosed stoop, just enough cover. He grabbed his set of lock picks out of the front pocket of his backpack and got to work. It was so quiet in the neighborhood that he could hear the tumblers as they clicked into place. It'd taken a good bit of convincing Bobby to teach him how to do this, but it was very much worth it. He was into the house in less than a minute. 

The kitchen was a mess, but it was a normal mess, a day or two's worth of dishes in the sink, high chair with remnants of the last meal Lylamyn had eaten still on it, newspaper spread out on the table. The dining room was pristine, but the living room had been trashed. Furniture was knocked over. The mirror that had hung over the sofa was shattered. The frame still hung on the wall, but hundreds of mirrored shards littered the floor and sofa. Someone had written obscenities all over walls with one of those big permanent markers. Horrible, horrible things. "Rory is a bitch for any one who asks," was one of the milder ones. The sulfurous smell hung in the air, like a dozen eggs gone bad, then shattered. He saw something yellow smudged on the mirror frame. Definitely sulfur. There was, without a doubt, a demonic presence here, or here just recently. 

Sam righted the lamp table on the left end of the sofa, pulled out some supplies and got to work. He'd swept up most of the mirror shards by the time there was the sound of a key in the front door lock. 

"Honey, I'm home!" 

The boisterous voice from the front hall was Jim, but it also wasn't Jim. It was, if nothing else, far more energetic, even frenetic than Jim ever was. Sam kept sweeping, as if nothing was going on, as if there wasn't a demon wearing his old enemy's husband as a convenient disguise. Meatsuit, that was the word Bobby had used. A demon was using Jim as just another meatsuit. 

"Well, well, well," Jim said. "If it isn't little Sammy Campbell. Or should I say, Sammy Winchester?"

Sam tried to keep his face plastered still, to not betray any reaction. People called him Sam Winchester all the time, not knowing or believing that he hadn't been claimed by John yet. Him saying that didn't mean he knew Sam's real name.

"Oh, yes, we know about you and how you think you're the next Buffy," the demon said, with a snarl. "And we know about your sick attachment to your father and brother. To think they call demons twisted."

Sam kept sweeping, standing his ground. It was just a few more feet. The demon could taunt him all it wanted. He wouldn't loose his cool.

"Sad little Sammy, doesn't know if he's more weepy because Daddy and his crew of pissants won't let them into his pathetic little secret society, or if he's sad that Daddy doesn't just make him into his bitch like he did Dean, because that's what Sammy really wants deep down, Daddy to force him to submit. Daddy to stick his cock into his snatch and pump him full of babies whether he wants them or not."

Three more steps, Sam thought, struggling mightily to keep his face neutral. "I'm just here helping Rory clean up," Sam said. 

"Oh, you play a good game, Sammy," Jim said. "You hide it well, but I can see the disappointment in you, deep down, that Daddy doesn't love you as much as he loves Dean, because Dean is such a perfect little bitch for him and you, you're a freak. A giant freak. Taller than you should be by a whole foot."

From behind Jim, Sam could hear a door opening, someone walking into the house's front hallway. It was a soft sound though, barely audible, a slight click of lock turning and only an absence of sound, no footsteps, just a sense of someone coming closer. Jim didn't seem to hear it. He didn't turn towards it at least.

"Least I'm human," Sam said. Then, even though he was sure what Jim was, he added, "Christo."

Jim's eyes turned deep black, just a flash of it, then they were back to normal- brown irises, white around them.

"Oh, slutty little Sammy thinks he's a hunter. That's just so sweet you think you're good for something besides breeder. Too bad Daddy doesn't want you for that. You know what it means that he didn't spread your legs back when you were twelve, plug you up with his knot and his babies. He doesn't want you that way and that hurts, because deep down, you're just like the rest of them, just a bitch, waiting to be taken, no matter what you say you want."

Sam swallowed hard. It wasn't that he'd never thought those things, but he knew they weren't the truth. Not the truth as he knew it. As he had to know it to remain whole and sane. One more step, he thought. 

"Nothing but a bitch, Sammy. You'd spread your legs for anyone who asks," Jim said, then took the final step. "Or maybe it's Lyle Darvish you're still wanting to spread your legs for, let him show you just how easy it would be to be his bitch."

Sam dug the lighter that was in his pocket, flicked it on and tossed towards Jim. The devil's trap he'd drawn on the carpet earlier with a bottle of vodka flared and flashed into a low fire, burning out quickly, but creating its image in ash on the cream fibers of the area rug. Then Sam took out his notebook, where he had, among other things, a copy of the Rituale Romanum. He didn't even really need to consult it any more. He began, "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica..."

 

At last, Jim's head spasmed back, like he was trying to curl up in a ball the reverse of the way that people usually bent. He screamed and from his mouth, a massive plume of black smoke billowed out, found the quickest way out of the house by way of the living room fireplace. The smell of sulfur instensified, then dissipated quickly. Jim collapsed, boneless, to the floor and he didn't rouse right away. Sam collapsed a little too. He found he just had to sit down, and the sofa seemed to smack his ass without any intervening seconds and he couldn't get up. He was, unaccountably, much more tired than he should have been. He always was. But it was okay. He'd done it. The demon was gone. Then Daddy was right here, lifting him into his arms, and Vern was behind him, making his way to Jim's still, helpless form. 

"He's breathing," Vern reported. "I think he'll be fine once he wakes."

"Sam?" Daddy asked. There were questions in his eyes. Lots of questions. Things Sam wouldn't be able to answer right now, if ever. Not all of them had anything to do with what he'd just been doing. 

"Demons lie, Daddy," Sam said. "That's what they do. Not a thing he said was true."

"What the hell do you think were you doing?"

The demand was angry, on the verge of being unreasonably so. There was an edge of betrayal there. Sam always had expected it, if John had ever caught him out, doing this, but he couldn't have not done it. 

"I was doing an exorcism," Sam said, keeping his voice neutral, as if he'd been explaining that he'd been doing his homework, or watching TV. He'd hoped to never have to explain himself, explain this. Explain why he had to do this, that it was a need as ingrained, as primal as his need for water. 

"You could have been hurt," John said and his hands, on Sam's shoulders, were shaking a little. Sam could only shrug to that. It was true. He could have been hurt, but he hadn't yet and he certainly wasn't planning to get hurt. As far as this kind of thing went, it was about as undangerous as you could get, assuming you planned carefully and weren't stupid.

"You were hunting," John accused him, finally. "We don't hunt anymore, Sam. The Winchesters are out of that, for good."

"The Campbells are hunters," Sam said. "I'm Sam Campbell. Named after my grandfather, Sam Campbell, a great hunter. I'm a hunter."

And you made me Sam Campbell, Daddy, Sam thought. 

"You're seventeen. You're too young for this."

"I've been doing this three, four years now," Sam said. "I don't go out looking for hunts, but if I find something here, I take care of it. Haven't you wondered why this county and town are so clean when the rest of the country has experienced unprecedented levels of the supernatural?"

"You'll scare Verna to death if you keep these shenanigans up, young man," Vern said, from the other side of the room, where he was still attempting to revive Jim.

"Verna knows," Sam said, thinking about how none of it probably would have been possible without Verna. She understood. She gave him the space to do this. "She helps. And she lets me borrow her car. She knows how important this is. I probably saved Rory and his baby's lives and Jim's too. I don't think that demon had a chance to ride him for very long, so I don't think he did a lot of damage to the meat suit."

"You could have been possessed yourself," John said, sounding like he was feeling ill, just at the thought of that. "There's a huge risk, when you let that thing free from its victim, that it'll jump right into you."

Sam dug the anti-possession charm Bobby had given them out from under his shirt collar. As soon as he was old enough, he was having it inked directly onto his skin, like Bobby recommended, but for now, wearing it as a necklace would have to do. "I'm good," he said. "It works, just like Bobby said. Look, I don't go seeking out these hunts. I've never left the county on one. I just clean up what comes my way. I know you're upset, but I'm not stopping."

"I forbid it. I forbid you to endanger yourself any longer. This is reckless, Sam."

John was just getting started. It'd been years since he'd gotten into one of his tirades. Living in Mount Pleasant had mellowed him almost beyond recognition. He had so little to be upset about, really. 

"You can't," Sam cut him off, stepping right up into the man's face. "You have no authority over me. You're not my father. You're not my Alpha. You made your decision, five years ago to be my boyfriend and my boyfriend doesn't get to tell me how I'm going to live my life and whether or not I'm going to be saving people. You and Dean, you have your apple pie life together and you don't need it, but I need this. I have to do this. Maybe you can take other things from me, but you can't keep me from this."

They could stop him from being one of the Men of Letters. They could keep him out by virtue of his gender, but they couldn't stop him from being a hunter. There were no special entrance requirements to being a hunter other than believing in the supernatural and having the guts to do something when things started killing people. 

John Winchester startled, then sat down on the edge of the sofa, perhaps a little overcome by this home truth that Sam had just delivered, because the man had definitely, back when Sam was twelve, decided that fucking Sam was more important than being a father to him. Not that Sam minded. He was glad it had happened. He was happier than he could imagine, most days. But John didn't get to play it both ways. This was their lives. He couldn't be both father and lover as far as Sam was concerned and his chances of going back to being father- that had ended long ago. 

"Sam," John said, like it was a warning. Like he was going to try and explode again.

"No," Sam said. "If I'm old enough to be fucking you, then I'm old enough to make my own decisions about what else I do with my body too. That's the way things are. I'm not asking permission."

"But college, Sam. I thought you were going to college. You're going to give that up for hunting?"

"Who said I was? When I go, wherever I go, it'll be like this. I'll take care of trouble if it comes to town, but I won't go looking for it."

"You two can settle this later," Vern said. "We've got to get this place cleaned up enough so we can call an ambulance for Jim. I don't think he's going to come around on his own."

Mostly what Vern meant was the devil's trap, now unnecessary, marking up the carpet and perhaps causing uncomfortable questions. Sam scrubbed at it with the broom he'd been using earlier to sweep up mirror shards. He managed to shift most of the ash enough that the carpet, while still ruined, just looked like it was smudged and besmirched. Usually, Sam did a more thorough clean up job than this, but it'd have to do. A lot could be explained away by Jim having gone on a bender or something. 

Later, after the ambulance and the police had come and gone, taking Jim away on a gurney, Lyle Darvish came into the house. He looked shaken, pale and overwrought. He stepped right up to Sam, held out his hand and shook Sam's hand firmly, like a man would to another man. That was something Lyle Darvish didn't do to Omegas. 

"I heard it was you that saved Rory. And Jim too," Lyle said. "Thank you. I'll always be in your debt. He's Jessamyn's only baby, can't let anything happen to him. What really happened? Vern was saying demonic possession?"

"Yeah. It's gone now, though you might to try and get him to get this tattooed on him somewhere," Sam said, and he passed Lyle the sigil that would keep you safe from possession, explaining how once you'd been possessed the first time, you were more vulnerable to it again. It wasn't like sickness, where you could develop an immunity. It was more like a house that gets broken into. If you didn't fix the locks and reglaze the windows, then people just start crawling back in, and then pretty soon, the place was a crack house or squatter's den. 

"Where'd you get this sigil?" Lyle asked. "You're not on the path to initiation."

"It's from a friend of mine, a hunter," Sam said. "I can't get initiated, remember?"

"Vern? Why isn't Sam being initiated?" Lyle asked. "He's smart, smarter than you or me, as strong as any Alpha, and brave."

"I don't know," Vern said. "I wish I could tell you. It's just we've always initiated Alphas only. I'm going to look into that because if anyone deserves it, it's Sam."

 

***  
The instant John let them back into the house, Sam stormed back upstairs to shower again. Not that he needed it in the strictest of physical senses. It hadn't been a hard hunt that way, but John understood. Any hunt, no matter how cleanly it ended, left you feeling dirty somehow. Touched by evil. A shower was as necessary a part of the post hunt routine was cleaning your weapons or hiding the bodies. 

There was noise coming from the kitchen, so John followed it to its source. Dean was starting in on dinner, getting Joy to help him. She was a tiny little thing, with hair that had turned blonde and grew halfway down her back, now put up into little Heidi braids at the side of her head. She was rummaging in the vegetable crisper. He stood silently in the door way, watching his bitch stir a big pot at the stove and his little daughter rummage. The air was filled with the scent of sautéed onions, savory and warm, not so much appealing on their own, but there was the anticipation of what might be built on the foundation of them. This was just exactly what he'd needed after that afternoon's scene, coming across that foul creature talking that way to his Sam, then hearing those words coming out Sam's mouth, the violent billows of smoke as it fled. Sam's voice had been eerily calm, eerily powerful and authoritative. He'd done that before, John could tell, and didn't expect anything but the demonic spirit to obey, to be compelled to leave. 

"I don't see any carrots, Mommy," Joy said, sad in the way that every little thing that was sad or frustrating seemed tragic and unsupportable when you were that young.

"I think we might be out, Dean," John said. "Sam was here most of yesterday after all. We're out of a lot of things."

"Dad!" Joy cried out and ran to him, quest for carrots forgotten to the point where she left the crisper drawer open, the fridge door flapping against it. She ran across the room and into his arms. 

"Hey, Dolly," he said as she kissed his cheek, as if it hadn't been just that morning that he'd seen her last. He then set her down gently, thinking yet again, slightly sadly of how little physical affection he'd raised his two boys with, and promising to himself, as he always did, not to make those same mistakes with his girl and his children in utero. "Why don't you go shut the fridge then you and I can go to the market and get your Mommy some carrots."

"Is Uncle Sammy home?" Joy asked as she carefully pushed the drawer back in, then shut the fridge. 

"He's showering now, sweets. He's had a busy afternoon," John said. "Is there anything else you need at the market?"

"Nah. Don't bother going. It'll be too late by the time you get back with them. I just went to the store, day before yesterday. I just wish that boy would tell me when he finishes something up. I never ate like he does," Dean said. He stepped away from the pot for the moment, revealing his belly to a side view. That was something John would never get tired of, the view of his pregnant bitch, hugely swollen up with his babies. He was so beautiful, he always was, but John liked him best this way, regretted that he couldn't be pregnant more often. Dean was nearly eight months along, twins this time, and breezing through this pregnancy compared to his last one. Dean was pleased as punch about the twins too. Two babies for the price of one c-section, he'd said when the first ultrasound had come back.

"You kind of did when you were pregnant with Joy," John said, thinking of the vast quantities of diner food that had disappeared down Dean's mouth during the early months of that pregnancy, where Dean would wolf down a burger, fries, and milkshake, then proceed to steal half of Sam's order and as much as he could get away with of John's. There'd been more than a few meals where they'd just gotten Dean a second meal.

"You're imagining that, Old Man," Dean said, then he grinned. "I am a dainty, little flower and always have been."

Maybe compared to Sam, but Dean was huge compared to any other Omega they knew, especially now, with his belly so big already. He was bigger now than he'd been at the end of his pregnancy with Joy. It was time for Dean to go back to stirring the pot, so John stepped up behind him. He laid his hands on the sides of Dean's belly and there was an answering kick from each side, a distinct movement on each side of the belly. 

"They're really active today," Dean said. "And happy to feel you. I swear, they know when it's their Dad touching me. You know, maybe after I get this to the simmer stage, I could put Joy down for a nap."

Putting Joy down for a nap was pretty much Dean code for, 'I'm horny, come fuck me' and while John wasn't disinterested, there were some things he had to put to rest in his own mind before he could relax into this. 

"Dolly, why don't you go into your play room and play Barbies or something," John said, exchanging a meaningful look with Dean, who nodded.

Joy was actually more obsessed at the moment with Barbie's pal, Omega Andy. She had the one with the rubber pouch that a baby could be put into, making him pregnant at will. When she talked Sam into playing Barbies with her, she always made him play Omega Andy. "And you have to get pregnant with a baby," she said. As if there were anything else one could get pregnant with. Then sometimes she would add, "You have to get pregnant with Daddy Ken's baby." Actually, it was Alpha Ken and Omega Andy who lived in the big pink plastic Dream House. Barbie was just one of their pals who dropped by on occasion. Right now, she hesitated, in that way young kids do when they sense something important is going to be said between grown ups. 

Dean took charge, realizing John needed to talk. "Hey, I remember I promised you could have a little TV time if you were good at Jodilyn's. What do you think, Max and Ruby?"

"Uh-uh, Ruby's mean to Max," she said solemnly. "Tinkerbell. I want Tink."

What she was angling for was getting to watch all of Peter Pan, her current favorite movie. John wanted normal so much for his new family, even if it meant Disney princesses for his little girl. At least Tink was a little less princessy than some. 

"What do you think, Dad? Tinkerbell for our Dolly?" Dean asked. He wasn't asking John to decide whether she should be allowed, or that he didn't think he was capable of setting limits on her. What he was asking was, how long is conversation you need to have going to be and how immersed in the screen did John want her to be, so that the adults could have their discussion without bothering her. 

"Why not? It's only been a week since she's seen it," John said, because he didn't know how long this conversation might take. 

A short while later, he was sitting at the table with Dean, Joy just in the other room, easy to keep an eye on, especially as she was blissed out in front of the TV. He'd cracked open a beer for himself, even though he didn't really want it, just wanted to have something to hold in his hands. 

"About Sam."

"What about Sam?" Dean asked, a little cagey, a little too smooth. 

"Did you know he's been hunting?"

Dean swallowed hard. He knew. Then he spoke, "Alpha, I'm willing to talk to you about this, but not as your bitch. I'll talk to you as Sam's big brother, understood?"

John nodded. He understood. It was an artificial division that they'd used before when talking to each other about Sam. Because his Omega bitch would crumple at even a sharp word from his Alpha, would shut down rather than endure any kind of conflict, any kind of displeasure from his Alpha. But Dean was still, to the core, fiercely protective of his little brother, maybe less so now than he'd once been, but it was a hard thing for him to shake. He'd been told to take care of his brother since he was four and told that again and again until he was sixteen and he had a baby of his own to take care of. 

"Okay, big brother, did you know your little brother's been hunting?"

Dean nodded, then said, "A few local things. Nothing big. Handful of exorcisms mostly. A salt and burn or two. Not more than a dozen hunts, total. I helped him out with this werewolf thing over near Furnessville. "

"You were hunting too?" John was staggered. His bitch, by nature as sweet and obedient as they came, hadn't been just keeping Sam's secrets, but had gone on one of those hunts too?

"I didn't go on the hunt. He wouldn't let me. I just got him some silver bullets to fit his forty-five. Bobby couldn't get any to him in time."

"Sam has a forty-five?" 

As far as John knew, Sam had the Ruger LCP, a little pocket pistol without a ton of stopping power, just enough for personal protection on his runs. He'd picked it out himself after the thing with Sayfert last year and John had bought it for him.

"You can't go out hunting without a gun that has some stopping power. You taught me that. You taught him that," Dean said. "I got it for him three years ago, once I figured out what the little shit was doing. The way I figure, he's a stubborn cuss. Nothing you or I say is going to stop him from hunting. At least I could see he's got the right equipment. If it makes you feel better, I don't think he's needed it for any hunt but the werewolf. It's a Colt M1911."

"I can't believe that you wouldn't tell me, that you went out and got him a gun instead."

"You think if I'd told you, he would stop because you said so? You think he's going to stop now that you know? He doesn't see you as his father any more."

John remembered what Sam had said, and said fiercely. That he wasn't asking permission. That John didn't have the authority to deny him this. That five years ago, he had, in essence, stopped having that authority over him, when they'd become lovers. He was a boyfriend, as far as Sam was concerned. Someone he loved but not someone he took orders from. He'd allowed that to happen, probably it was inevitable from the moment he'd allowed himself to go too far with Dean. That he'd stopped being a father to the both of them at that point. He'd never really noticed the difference with Dean, his bitch being so obedient most of the time. But Sam was independent, insisting on his autonomy every step of the way. 

"I know. That's the only way this life of ours works, isn't it? But he's only seventeen," John said. 

"Just the other day, you were complaining to me about how you were tired of waiting, that you wanted him to let you claim him and plant a baby in him, that he should be ready for that by now."

"Most of his Omega peers have two year olds by now. Or even older kids."

"So, it's perfectly fine for him to risk his life, so long as he's doing it having your baby, but not otherwise?"

He was about to say that there was a difference, that hunting was far, far more dangerous than having babies. Maybe it was more dangerous to hunt, but there was still a risk, having a baby. LeeLee Previn, from down the street had had a placental abruption during delivery last year and nearly died. John didn't really have more time to think about this because Dean continued.

"He's saving people. That was once our family business. That meant something to you once, to me, and to him. Maybe he might get a little help from me, from Bobby, but ninety percent of what he knows, you taught him that," Dean said. "There's nearly twenty people, maybe more, walking around today, including kids, who wouldn't be here if it weren't for what Sam does. He's a good hunter. His kills are clean. People live because he's willing to take that risk onto himself. I can't believe you'd want to stop him."

Five years ago, John had left hunting behind without another thought. He had been driven to it by a lost wife and a need to keep his boys safe. Once that danger had been over, the abstract warmth of saving strangers had come to mean so little to him compared with the concrete, very present ways in which his boys, especially Dean, had needed him. And then he had been offered the society of the Men of Letters, which, in many ways, was directly opposed to hunting. But Dean was right. Hunting was important. If what Dean said was true, that Sam was responsible for saving twenty lives, then Sam was a hero and he couldn't put a stop to that. 

"It's just that I've never wanted anything but you boys to be happy, for you to have it better than I did," John said. "I don't want him to die on the claws and teeth of some werewolf. I want him to go to college. He got into Stanford, Dean. Did he tell you that?"

"Yeah, he did," Dean said, but he shook his head. "He applied because some teacher told him he had a shot, but I don't think he wants to go, not really. He thinks he should want to go, but what he really wants is for you to put that baby in him. He wants you to tell him he can't go all the way to California alone. He still wants to go to college, but he wants to do it claimed and with your blessing."

John thought about how earlier in the day, Sam had asked him to claim him, then let him go away to school. He'd refused, because he didn't want Sam to have any doubts. But what if Sam really didn't have doubts, that he just wanted to do things his way? There wasn't a lot of middle ground for Omegas. They could be like Dean, happiest in a home, as a pregnant bitch, or they could be like Bobby, forever unmated, unmarried, living on their own terms only, but always alone, probably lonely, and thought unnatural. Sam seemed to be trying to carve out some space in between the two extremes. 

"Won't a baby get in the way of his studies?" John asked.

"You put the baby into him now, he'll have it before school starts in the fall, or you wait until September, so he has it the next summer. Either way, whenever they come, I'm going to be doing a lot of taking care of Sam's babies. Sam's not real maternal or domestic. And that's okay. I've got this end of things covered. I want babies, a lot more of 'em. It's been hard, waiting like this."

"You two have our whole domestic arrangement worked out already, don't you?" he accused, but he didn't mind it, really. Because the thought of knocking up Sam was making him hard, as was the thought of claiming him. 

"Pretty much. Sam's just got to give himself permission and you just have to figure out how to hold on just enough and not too tightly," Dean said. "John?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we done here? Can I go back to being your bitch? Because this is exhausting for me, standing up to you."

"Of course, Dean," John said, feeling guilty and a little alarmed, because Dean almost never admitted to feeling tired, much less exhausted. "I guess I'm going to have to be okay with Sam being Sam, Little Bitch. Now, what can I do to make you feel better?"

A moment later, Sam walked down, hair still wet from his shower, dressed in comfortable clothes, sweats, one of John's shirts, the one he'd worn last night actually. It undoubtedly smelled like John. Actually, John had vague memories of using it to clean his semen off Dean's back, because it had been the closest thing handy. Sam looked happier for the shower, but still tired. 

"Hey Daddy," he said, then to Dean. "Have we got anything to eat? I think I must be having another growth spurt or something. I'm starving."

Dean got up, went to the cabinet that normally just held the baking pans and cookie sheets. He pulled out a brightly colored box of cereal and held it out to Sam. "Look what I've been hiding from you. I heard you did good today, Sammy."

"He did. Real good," John said. He stood up, hugged his younger boy close as Dean put the box of Lucky Charms on the table. "I'm proud of you, of what you did today."

"You didn't really sound that way earlier, in front of Vern."

"I was scared, Sam. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you. What that demon said, about me not loving you as much as Dean, that's a lie. I love you so much and I'm sorry if my Alpha instincts get the better of me sometimes. I just want you here with me and I panic at the thought of you getting hurt or going away. But you have to be you and if that means you have to go hunting, then I have to put up with that."

"You mean that?"

"You saved Jim's life. Probably Rory's and his babies. Why wouldn't I be proud? Go on, eat. You must be starving."

Sam sat down with his box of cereal and got to work plowing through most of it, even though Dean warned that dinner was just over an hour and a half away. Sam shrugged and said he didn't think that was a problem. Dean got busy working on dinner again, chopping more things, adding them to the pot. He seemed to be itching to have a private conversation with Sam, so John left them to it. He found his way to the play room where little Joy was still watching Peter Pan, but was also playing with her dolls. She'd gotten two Omega Andys, he noticed, Barbie herself nowhere in sight at the moment. Omega Andy one had the artificial pregnancy belly on, little plastic baby inside of him. Omega Andy two had his flat stomach. She'd sat up a little tableaux where Omega Andy one sat in one of the pink plastic Barbie chairs watching Omega Andy two and Alpha Daddy Ken dance around each other. 

"Let me kiss you and put a baby in your tummy," Alpha Daddy Ken said, using Joy's voice. She'd tried to pitch it lower, but it still came out as a little girl squeak. Then she noticed him looking down at her and cried out, "You have to play Daddy Ken, Dad."

John wondered, for a moment, if Vern had ever got down on his knees and played dolls with his oldest daughter Jody, then decided he didn't care. He got down on the floor near his daughter and let her put the Ken doll into his hands. They played together, bumping doll heads for kisses and Omega Andy one magically having his baby without any effort on his part, and Omega Andy two getting talked into having the baby put into his stretchy tummy panel. He thought about his years spent hunting and how he could never have had this kind of play with his boys, if only because he'd been raising them as Beta and Beta and Alpha boys never played with dolls. He wondered, just a little, if he'd been wrong giving up hunting. If he hadn't, he'd never have had this moment, but then, how many people hadn't he saved because he'd given up hunting in favor of this life. 

Off in the kitchen, Dean was still working hard. He was peeling fruit, cutting it up, mixing it with sugar, spices. Baking a pie probably. What was that that Sam had said earlier, that he and Dean had an apple pie life? Perhaps they did, an unconventional one, and he wanted, more than anything, for Sam to feel fully part of that life. To be fully part of that life, in the way that worked for him, that would make him happy. 

As they played, Miss Joy got tired and ended up letting the dolls slip out of her hands. She snoozed a little while in his lap, but as soon as he was certain she was fast asleep, he lifted her up and laid her on the sofa, covering her with an yet another afghan given to them by Verna. They seemed to fly off her fingers and she seemed to equate love with physical caretaking like that, so they'd never had the heart to say no to one more of them. Then he went to go see what his boys were getting up to in the kitchen.

 

***

 

Sammy dove into his second bowl of Lucky Charms like he hadn't eaten for days, while Dean looked at the big pot of stew he'd put on the stove with a critical eye, wondering if he'd made enough. Probably he had, but there wouldn't be much in the way of left overs probably. For all his joking about how he never had ate like that, Dean remembered the early days of his first pregnancy and how he just felt like a black hole surrounded by growing flesh, so he did his best to keep Sam fed full during these growth spurts of his and he always made sure to slip Verna some of the household money for her groceries, because the boy probably laid waste to her pantry too. 

"So, you told Daddy about Stanford?" Dean asked Sam at one of the rare moments he didn't have anything in his mouth.

"Yeah, he said he thought I should go. I just, I don't know," Sam said, putting his spoon down. "He said he'd be okay waiting four more years, but I don't know if I am."

"You want a baby sooner than that?"

"Dean, I want a baby now. Or at least, my body does. It's that same kind of feeling again, like when I was twelve. Not that bad, but I'm pretty sure I'd have to go on hormone therapy again to manage four more years without a baby."

"Have you been to the doctor?" 

Dean remembered how Sam had been at twelve, just about dying for a baby. He'd gotten the story a couple of years later, about how Sam had actually tried for a baby. He'd taken semen that got on his chin during a blowjob and rubbed it into his pussy afterwards. Thank God he'd never caught that time, because twelve, way too young for that kind of thing. But this was five years later, and maybe it wasn't time for another course of hormones but for a baby. Only if Sam actually wanted one, of course.

"A few weeks ago. She said my hormone levels are definitely drifting higher. If they get much higher, I should go on another course or I might have to get the IUD out anyway. I guess it can perforate the uterus during hormonal events like this. I just don't know what I want. I don't want to miss out on school."

"You won't miss out. I got you on this one. You'd be doing me a huge favor. I get another itty bitty one to hold just right when these two in here are ready to start crawling. I don't have to wait four more years again."

That much was totally true. It'd been hard, seeing Joy grow from tiny, to sitting up on her own, to crawling, to walking, talking, all knowing that he didn't know when he'd be able to have another one to go through those landmarks again. He'd totally turned into one of those Omegas, the ones addicted to babies, the very youngest kind of babies that are utterly dependent on you. He just craved having them in his arms and while it was nice to borrow the latest edition that had been popped out by one of his friends, it wasn't the same as one of his own. Or as close to his own as he could get. 

"I promise. You'll be in school in the fall, no matter what," Dean said. "And you tell your Daddy you're ready for his knot, he'll be so over the moon, you can get away with just about anything."

"What's his knot feel like?"

So Dean tried to explain it, the size of it, the weight of it inside you. How much better coming was when your body had something to clench around. How it could be rubbed against your most secret, internal pleasure spots and used to make you come again and again. Sam flushed and swallowed hard at Dean's description of the feeling of Alpha coming inside of him. Maybe for anyone else it might have all been a little too much information, but they'd been sleeping with the same man for five years now and he loved his brother so much. He hated knowing that while Sam might be having a good time with Alpha, that he wasn't getting the full treatment, so to speak, that there was something he was missing out on. 

Just at that moment Alpha came back into the kitchen, swooped down on Sam for a kiss first, then a moment later, had him backed up against the kitchen cabinets. John was pressing his leg between Dean's, thrusting the hardness of his thigh muscles against Dean's cock, making him instantly hard. He grabbed Dean's wrists and captured them both in one of his huge hands, then he tugged up Dean's shirt, revealing his tits for all the world to see. Dean quivered, both with desire and a little embarrassment. Not that he minded Sam seeing this, but Joy could go from sleeping to waking instantly. He could see through the open door that she was napping on the sofa in the playroom, Peter Pan still playing on the screen. She could wake at the slightest sound and look up to see them easily, straight view right from sofa to kitchen. Thankfully, she stayed fast asleep, for now. 

Alpha bent his head to the left tit, and with only the slightest hesitation, waiting for Dean's nod, he put his mouth on and started suckling, helping himself to the milk that Joy didn't need any more, that the babies weren't here for yet. Alpha kept his Little Bitch lactating, long after their baby had weened herself, had enjoyed having that milk all to himself for a while. Sam flushed even deeper and pulled at the neck of his t-shirt as he watched the scene.

"What were you talking about, Little Bitch? You've got Sammy all hot and bothered," Alpha asked after he lifted his mouth from Dean's tit. 

"I was telling him about your knot and how good it feels," Dean said. "I think he wants it, Alpha. Though I think watching you milk me is turning him on too."

They didn't have any more time to discuss what exactly was turning Sam on, because the doorbell rang. Dean hurried to pull down his shirt, though he continued to let down long moments after Alpha had stopped nursing on him and wet spots appeared instantly on the front of the t-shirt he'd been wearing He cursed and scurried, as best he could anyway being so huge, to go upstairs and find a clean shirt and one of those sports bras he sometimes wore, just so he could have a place to cram some breast pads to soak up the excess. 

 

****

 

When Daddy answered the door, it was Vern and a couple of Daddy's other Alpha friends. Sam was pretty sure they were all Men of Letters, but the only one he was certain about was Vern. Assuming it was Alpha business, and glad he wouldn't have to face anyone with this hard on and soaked pants, his pussy still uncomfortably wet, he retreated into the family room/playroom and started putting it into a little order. It wasn't that he was domestic, per se, but that he liked a room better when it was picked up, clean. It just made him feel better about the room. He supposed that made him a bit of a neatnik, but he didn't care. It was something he could do around the place, to contribute, but that didn't made him feel like he was chafing, or that he was acting, putting on some kind of self that wasn't true. 

Joy had the Omega Andys out again, he saw, one of them pregnant, one of them not. She'd chopped the hair off the pregnant one, so it looked more like Dean, who even these five years later, hadn't grown Omega length hair, who kept his hair just an inch or so longer than a military cut. The Omega Andy with the long, original length hair, he wasn't pregnant, never was. That was the one she was always making him play with, always saying that he had to get pregnant from Alpha Ken. Well, you couldn't fault her observational skills, he thought as he grabbed the pink plastic doll sofa off the floor and arranged it back into the living room of the doll's dream house. 

These were the kind of toys Sam had never had when growing up. Omega boys were allowed dolls, but he'd never had one, except briefly. The Omega Andy was actually marketed at little Omega boys. Sam remembered how one Christmas, when Dad had been gone. He might have been seven, Dean eleven. And there hadn't been presents at all, nor a tree, nor anything when he'd gone to bed on Christmas Eve, but he'd woken up on Christmas morning and there'd been something like a tree, actually a scraggly brach dragged in from somewhere, but there'd been a couple of wrapped gifts for him, including an Omega Andy doll, a lot like the ones that Joy had now. Dean had claimed Dad had gotten it for him, dropped it off while he was sleeping. Sam had believed him, at least until a few days later when Dad came home for real and seen Sam playing with the doll. Dad had snatched that doll from Sam's hands like he'd been playing with fire and broken it, tore it apart and threw it away. Then there'd been a lot of shouting, especially at Dean, about where had that doll come from and that they were boys and boys didn't play with dolls, not ever, especially that kind of doll. 

It wasn't that he missed the chance to have played with dolls. It wasn't that he was angry about that long ago Christmas. Honestly, with the life they'd lived, there hadn't been room for any kind of toys, much. A few legos, a few toy soldiers. Even those had disappeared after Sam had gotten the legos stuck in the heating vents and a toy soldier stuck in the ashtray. But Sam sometimes did get a kick, not out of playing with Joy's dollhouse. Just neatening it up, making it tidy again. Just another form of the housecleaning he kind of liked, really. He found the extra baby, the one that never got inside the stretchy belly of the long-haired Andy. It was wedged thoughtlessly between the dream house and the wall, forgotten. He contemplated it for a moment, thinking about his own potential baby. 

The one he almost certainly didn't want to have yet, but that he yearned for at the same time. He had plans for next year. They didn't involve taking care of a baby. If he got pregnant, this town would almost certainly go unprotected for those nine months, because he couldn't go hunting that way. But Dean made it sound so easy. Get knocked up. Give birth in the summer. Dean got a baby to take care of. Dean was baby hungry, that was for sure. Then there was the course of hormone treatments to think about. His body wanted this baby. He could stop that, at least for now, but there were repercussions to messing around with with an Omega's hormones either way. It was a delicate balance and another course of the Alpha hormones it took to quiet his uterus and ovaries down would cause him to masculinize even more, almost as bad in its way, as being too feminized. He could grow muscles like Daddy, broad shoulders. God knew what kind of body hair he might sprout. He liked the heavy chest hair on Daddy, the thick beard, but he didn't want it on himself, it was bad enough that he had to shave his face at all. 

Still not certain what he wanted, he set the two Omega Andy's up in the dollhouse living room, side by side on the sofa. He put the extra baby on couch between the two dolls. He picked Alpha Ken up off the floor and sat him on a chair in the dollhouse, a happy family together. Except there wasn't a doll for Joy, he thought, and that couldn't be allowed. He picked the up a Tinkerbell action figure, smaller in scale than the Barbie dolls. That was just about right though, size wise. He bent the moveable joints so she was in sitting pose and posed her right on short haired Andy's lap. 

He stood up, looked for anything else out of place and couldn't find it. He was mostly calm again, his hard on softened, though he, no doubt, reeked of his own pussy juice. Hopefully, they'd be done with their Alpha business by now and he could go upstairs and change yet again, without having to say hi to anyone. As he walked through the kitchen to the front hallway, Daddy came, apparently looking for him.

"Vern, Lyle and Florian want to see you, Sam," Daddy said, his face solemn. His eyes shone brightly though.

"Is this about my hunting?" Sam asked, unable to think it could be about anything else. Maybe they thought they could forbid it, even if he wouldn't let Daddy forbid him. As if they controlled all dealings with the supernatural, just because of their secret brotherhood. 

"In a way," John said, and he clasped a hand firmly on Sam's shoulder. "Go talk to them. You'll see."

So Sam walked out into the living room. Daddy didn't join him there. He was forced to face the three Alpha men alone. They were all on the long leather sofa, one to each cushion of it, and he was forced to take the carved Victorian style side chair across from them, and feel like he was in front of some kind of tribunal. He was used, mostly, to sitting in Verna's ridiculous choices for furniture, and though he felt huge, ungainly, he didn't feel like he was going to crash to the ground if he moved. No, the thing that definitely bothered him the most was this feeling of being on trial. 

"Sam, you know Lyle Darvish and Florian Henderson, right?" Vern stared. Sam nodded. How could he not? A lot of history between him and Mr. Darvish. And Mr. Henderson was the mayor. Vern continued, "We've been talking about your actions this afternoon ever since then."

"I don't care what you say, I did the right thing," Sam said, defensively. "I knew what it was, what I was up against. If I waited until I could convince someone like Dad, the demon would have had a chance to damage Jim. You let a demon wear a person too long, that person might not survive the possession."

"No, we all agreed, son. You did the right thing. That your bravery is an example to us all. We all agree, we want to offer you a place in the order. Florian and I, we're the Elders of our chapter and we spent the afternoon scouring our charter, seeing if there was a way we could initiate you," Vern said.

Florian, an old man with a head like a hard boiled egg, but with kind eyes, said, "It turns out that even though we've only offered initiation to Alphas in the past, that's just tradition and custom. The charter states that we can offer initiation to any married man, of good moral character, who has proved his service to the community and who is sponsored by a fully initiated member of a chapterhouse."

Vern added, "The charter doesn't say anything about Alpha, Beta or Omega, not a thing. Lyle has offered to sponsor you."

"I never really made up for what I said and did to you that day. That eats at me, especially knowing you saved Rory's family," Lyle said. He looked at his hands. "I hope I can now. I think just about anyone who knows you would know what this means to you, Sam."

"I'm not married and I'm not of good moral character," Sam said, quickly, not sure why he was bringing that up. At one point, he'd have given anything to hear that offer from these men. He was being offered initiation into the Men of Letters, and not as a legacy, but on his own merits. Was he seriously pointing out the truths that would mess that chance up?

"Now, who says you're not of good moral character?" Vern demanded. 

"Mrs. Presley, the principal," he said, thinking of how, last month, he'd been brought into her office and had it explained to him, that even though he was the student with the highest grade point average, by far, in his class, he wouldn't be named valedictorian, because the valedictorian had to be of good moral character and he wasn't, that he'd slept around, that everyone knew it. Well, he couldn't exactly argue with that. He said, in response to their questioning looks, "I caused her to have to fire the boy's cross country coach last year."

He'd actually really liked Mr. Fabian a lot, and it wasn't like he was Sam's coach. Sam hadn't been allowed to participate in boy's sports, being an Omega. They'd had some good times but Sam had gotten stupid and they'd gotten caught by another teacher. Mr. Fabian had been allowed to quit and not be fired, so long as everything was kept quiet, as the principal had pretty much put the blame solely on Sam's shoulders. 

"I thought he quit," Mr. Henderson said. "Mabellyne never would explain why."

"He quit rather than get fired. That was my fault," Sam said. "I've got a reputation, and it's not exactly undeserved. It's why I can't be the valedictorian of my class."

"Sam, your moral character speaks for itself," Vern said. "The Rituale Romanum, it doesn't work if you're not right with God. Florian and I are both satisfied that you meet that requirement."

"Indeed," said Mr. Henderson. "A reputation is just rumors, but actions mean something. The Bible says 'By their fruits ye shall know them.' While it's wrong about quite a lot, it's not wrong about that."

"But I'm still not married," Sam said. 

"Well, I know for a fact, you could change that any day of the week," Lyle said. "All you have to do is say yes to that man of yours and he'd have you any way you want, soon as he could."

Sam knew that. John had been waiting patiently for years to marry Sam. He could have this thing that he had wanted so badly. All he had to do was say yes to marriage and he could be one of the Men of Letters. 

"Would you stop me from hunting?" Sam asked. 

"We don't hunt," Vern said. "We try to understand, we try to explain. We're preceptors, chroniclers. We stand against evil where we find it. But there are levels of the knowledge, Sam. We don't stand for the kind of every man taking action for himself that you hunters are used to."

"I'll think about it," Sam said. "Is there a time limit on your offer?"

"It's open, Sam, whenever you're ready. Most men don't start on the path to initiation until their twenties. There's no hurry. Think on it. It's an important decision."

The men left soon after that and Sam was left alone in the living room to contemplate their offer. This was the thing he'd always thought he wanted most. More than going out of state for college, more than Stanford, more than the baby his body was nagging him to have. All he had to do to have it now was get married. 

Of course, that implied a lot. It implied babies. It implied that maybe Daddy might feel he had more rights to know where Sam was and what he was doing. Alpha's, even when they were trying not to, got awfully possessive about the things and people they considered to be theirs. But he'd have to deal with all of that someday anyways, ecause he wanted to be claimed by Daddy. It'd been his ultimate goal, to somehow combine everything he wanted to do and be, with a life lived here, with Daddy and with Dean. Maybe sooner might be better than later. If Dean would keep his promise to do most of the baby watching, then there was no reason he could really think of to delay this. 

Meanwhile, delicious smells were coming out of the kitchen. Dean must be nearly finished with the meal by now and he was hungry again. He gathered his long limbs off the scrolled and upholstered chair and walked into the kitchen where Dean was dishing up food, and Daddy was in the other room, trying to wake Joy up for dinner. 

"You promise I'll be in college in the fall, no matter what?" Sam asked Dean.

"If it's at all in my power, it'll happen," Dean said. 

He put off announcing his decision though, all through dinner, and through helping wash the dishes while Dean eventually got Joy off to sleep, even though Daddy was right there, watching him work, drying the dishes off and putting them away. Finally, Dean came down alone. He'd shed his clothes, the one sure sign that Joy would probably be out, fast asleep for the rest of the night. 

"Daddy," Sam said, as soon as Dean was close. "I'm going to call Dr. Hibberd, first thing Monday, see how soon I can get an appointment to remove my IUD.

"Yeah, baby?" John asked, dropping the dish he was drying. Luckily, it was over the counter and instead of shattering, it just kind of clattered and spun around the counter for a moment.

"And then, as soon as that's taken care, I want you to take me to the claiming ground and make me yours."

"You're sure about that?"

"Certain of it."

 

***

 

The afternoon before his claiming, Sam packed up his room at Verna's. It was funny how much could accumulate, even when you weren't trying. He'd moved in nearly five years ago with three backpacks, two full of clothes, one of school books. But this afternoon, he packed up ten boxes of books already, another three of old notebooks from school and he hadn't even started in on clothes yet. Right now, he was packing up the drawers of his desk and all the little odds and ends that had made their home in it over the years. There was the drawer of tools, of course. He'd had packed that drawer up first, with the new idea he was trying out, gotten talking with Bobby- bullets carved with a Solomon's key on them, for demons too strong to be tricked into a regular devil's trap, for when the meat suit was obviously dead and the person it belonged to couldn't be saved. Then there was the bullet casting equipment. He'd just gotten started on that too. After having had to beg Dean to steal some silver bullets out of Daddy's old cache of them, when Bobby couldn't get them to him, Sam had decided he'd never be caught flat-footed again. 

There were other drawers, filled with happier memories, in the desk too. There was one drawer full of little memoirs from different boyfriend's he'd had over the years. There were notes asking to meet, little gifts, dried flowers, even one or two pieces of jewelry he'd been given that he'd meant to give back but never had. He poked through all of this, picking out the couple of notes from Daddy that had gotten mixed in by mistake. The rest, other than the jewelry, he boxed up, labeled, 'to be burned.' 

He heard the shuffle and tap out in the hallway. She'd just, a few weeks back conceded to the cane, a big concession for her. She'd spent her whole life independent, never married, making her way on her own. She had protected him when he'd needed it the most, made the life he was about to choose possible. He'd never have been able to go to Daddy so freely, of his own choice, if he hadn't had these years of freedom. And now, as she was on the decline, on the way to needing him, he was about to leave.

"You almost done, Sweetie?" she asked, looking in on him. And to his own shock, because he was pretty much a grown ass man, and Sam Campbell did not cry, he burst into tears.

"Come here," she said, and when he didn't, electing to swab angrily at his face with his t-shirt, she added, "Don't make me get down on that floor with you, Sam, because I'm not sure I have it in me to get back up."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, getting his legs underneath him, standing up to join her in the hallway. "I don't know if I can leave you. You did so much for me."

"Now, we both knew from the start this was just until you married that man of yours," she said. "Maybe I'm getting kind of tired of your longshanks cluttering my place up, eating me out of house and home, tripping over your size thirteen sneakers."

Now, that was a lie. He was always super careful to keep his things confined to his own room here and not leave his shoes or anything else just lying around. But Verna's eyes were twinkling and her face was smiling. "I'll miss you too, Sam, but you'll be just down the street and I just know you'll be coming here for the quiet to study, what with your house going to be full of babies before long."

"I'm scared," he said, and was sorry he'd said it a moment later. Sam Campbell was never scared. He faced down demons and angry spirits. He was fearless. But he was scared, because what if this was the wrong thing to do? What if he'd made a mistake, turning down Stanford, in favor of going to school close to home? Maybe he should have waited the four years. 

"Of letting your Daddy claim you or of all the rest? That baby you're talking about having?" Verna asked. 

She'd always claimed that was why she'd never got married, not that she couldn't, not that she'd never had offers, but that she'd never wanted children, not ever, and back when she was young, you got married for kids. Not a maternal bone in my body, Sam, she'd said. Maybe it makes me unnatural, she'd said, but babies are just like blobs to me. Don't feel anything special when holding them. Don't like them at all, not until they're old enough to be people and sass back to me, she had always said. He hadn't believed that she wasn't maternal. Hadn't she taken him in after all? Oh, that, she'd said. Just being an aunt, she'd had plenty of practice with Vern's kids and Joe's kids, after all. 

"The baby," he admitted. They'd planned his claiming to be on his very next fertile days, once he'd gotten the IUD out. That was just three days ago, in fact. It was pretty likely he'd conceive tomorrow morning or soon after. He'd even asked his androcologist about it, and she'd taken the time to give him an ultrasound, she'd showed him his ovaries, the nearly ripe ova in them. She'd told him that his womb was ripe, in a perfect state for a baby to get planted. Not that Omegas went into heat, she explained, but if they did, you'd be in that state a few days from now. But just over ten days ago, he hadn't been sure of this at all. Only Dean's assurance that he'd be okay to start school in the fall had kept him going through with this. 

"So, you tell your Alpha you aren't ready for his baby yet and you take the morning after pills after the claiming. If you aren't ready, you aren't," she said, as if it were so easy as that. "I know John and I know he's not going to make another big mistake with you."

"Dean wants a baby too," he said. 

"Dean's having babies," Verna said. "And he'll be just fine if he has wait a while longer for another. Just because you want to get married doesn't mean you need to have babies now or ever. You do what you need to do and if someone tells you different, you spit in his eye. You got that?"

"Got that," he said. 

"Now, what's that box there that's so embarrassing you have to burn it?" she said, pointing to the one he'd marked for burning. 

"Old love letters. From you know."

"All your spurned gentleman callers? Don't burn 'em, Sam. You'll want them when you're as old and gray as I am, to remind you of the days when you were young and pretty and had men falling all over you. You can keep it here in my attic. Looks like you got most of the room cleaned out though."

"Yeah," he said. The room looked bare and empty, like he'd moved out already, all his posters down, his bed stripped to the mattress. He'd already spent his last night in it. Tonight was his pre-wedding party and he'd be at Daddy's house after that.

The doorbell rang. 

"Sounds like the ritual kidnapping," Verna said. "You'd best go down."

"You're not coming?" he asked. 

"I'm getting too old for that kind of thing. Your respectable spinster of the community is going to be Mitt Kellogg."

Sam made a face at that. Mitt was his Latin teacher at the high school and about the last person Sam wanted to see him naked. He was, apparently, Omega, but like Bobby, never mated, never claimed and not at all pretty. People assumed he was Beta.

"Well, it's a good thing you're not a virgin, then," Verna said. "So he won't have to get up into your cooch to break your maidenhead. Not as much fun as you'd think, breaking a hymen. Go on, I'll see you in the morning." 

So Sam flew down the stairs and Verna shuffle-tapped her way down after him slowly. He opened the door and it was everyone he'd expected, mostly. Rory, LeeLee, Mitt Kellogg hanging towards the back of the group, and Dean, despite his hugely pregnant state. His pseudo-kidnappers numbered about a dozen in all. 

"You ready for this, Baby Boy?" Dean asked him, big smile on his face. It wasn't that Dean had been exactly unhappy these past five years, but when Sam had announced that he was willing to be claimed, when it became clear that Sam would be moving back to the house on Joy St. full time, he'd just gotten so much happier. 

Sam had to answer that grin back with one of his own, "As ready as I'll ever be."

 

***

About twelve hours later, Sam was standing in the claiming park, the first time he'd been back since Rufus Sayfert had tried to forcibly claim him. It was different this time, he told himself. He wanted this. He'd been waiting for this. Still, he couldn't help but think about that, and about the other early winter claiming ceremony he'd been to. Today was in early November, just like Dean's had been, but at least snow hadn't fallen yet that year. The pavement was still freezing as he stood on it in bare feet at the crack of dawn, someone's borrowed coat draped over his shoulders, while underneath he wore nothing but an old, bleached white t-shirt and a pair of thin white pants. They'd be ripped off of him soon enough and he'd be naked before the crowd. 

He had the traditional wreath on his head. He still had Dean's, dried up, from that November five years ago. It was packed up in one of the boxes at Verna's house. His was different from the one Dean had worn, different herbs, but it had still been picked out by Daddy. The meanings were clear and Daddy would have to know he could read it. Ivy, for marriage and fidelity. Oak leaves were for strength and bravery. Red balsam for ardent love. The last one was the hardest. At first Sam had thought it was wheat, but as he looked closer, he realized it was rye, for fertility. He wished that he could have composed his own message, a response, in a wreath, for John to wear, but that wasn't how this was done. The whole ceremony, it was about the Alpha having a chance to show off his love for the Omega, chasing him, winning him, facing challenges for him. 

A heavy hand was laid on his shoulder and Sam turned around. It was Bobby, for once, not wearing his trucker hat and plaid, but a suit and tie. Suddenly he was gripped tight around the chest in a big bear hug so tight he could hardly breathe for a moment. 

"I thought you weren't going to make it," Sam said when he was released and he could breathe again. "I thought you had that vetala thing in Massachusetts."

"Got those bitches as soon as I could and drove all night," Bobby said. Sam noticed the tall African-American guy, an Alpha, standing just behind Bobby. He was obviously a hunter as well, even though he was also dressed in a suit. There was just that watchful, vigilant look to him. A true hunter never really relaxed. Rufus stepped forward and laid a hand on Bobby's shoulder for a moment. There was something a little possessive about it, and if Sam didn't know better, he'd have thought Rufus was Bobby's Alpha. "This is my old pal, Rufus. I hope you don't mind I dragged him along to your wedding. He was in over his head with that vetala thing. I don't mind saying I saved his bacon."

"Not how I remember it, Bobby," Rufus said. He held out his other hand and Sam shook it. Then Rufus added, "I know your, uh, Daddy, from way back. It'll be interesting to see the fearsome hunter John Winchester, tamed and domesticated."

With that, Rufus headed to the point behind Sam where John waited. 

"Don't worry," Bobby said. "I did some explaining to Rufus before I brought him here. I think you'll find most of us hunters are understanding. We've all seen enough real evil that a man that loves his boys in ways he probably shouldn't don't even really register."

"Are you disappointed in me?" Sam asked. "For not following your example?"

"You want to be doing this?" Bobby asked, and Sam couldn't stop the grin that broke across his face as he thought about what would be happening in a few short minute. "Then why would I be disappointed?" 

"Rufus? He's not your?"  
"My Alpha? Hell, no, but just because I've never let myself be claimed, doesn't mean I'm a virgin, by far," Bobby said. "I let him hang around, so long as he doesn't get ahead of himself. Ah, I think they're giving you the signal to run, Sam."

The coat was slipped off Sam's shoulders and someone said to him, "Ready? Go!"

 

***

Like when he had claimed Dean, there was a crowd of well-wishers around him. What had felt strange last time just felt right this time. The dawn was nearly here, the sky shifting in color from purple to deep royal blue, lightest along the eastern side. He thought about his claiming of Dean, how the light had come up soft and pink, tinting everything rosy. As he was lost in the memories, there was a tug at the tail of his shirt. He turned around suddenly. It was Joy. He hadn't even thought about her being here, but of course she would. Children were never kept away from claimings, despite the adult nature of the day's events. It wasn't shameful, a claiming. It was about life and love. About the making of children. She'd been to other claimings before. 

"Dad!" she said, throwing herself around his leg, gripping him as tightly as her skinny little arms and legs could. 

"Hey, Dolly," he said, bending down and prying her off him, then lifting her up into his arms. "You should be with your Mommy. He'll be worried sick when he realizes you're not there."

"Mommy says you're going to put a baby into Uncle Sammy."

"I hope so, Dolly. He says he wants one," he said. He caught a flurry of activity to the left and when he looked, it was Dean, frantic. "Look, there he is. I told you your Mommy would be worried."

"Is it going to hurt Uncle Sammy when you put the baby in?"

"No, of course not. Why would you think that?"

"When Mr. Jones was putting a baby into Jaden, Jaden made all those shouty noises."

Jaden had been Joy's preschool teacher before his claiming last month, the most recent claiming they'd attended. In this community, while kids were welcome at claimings, they tried to keep them busy with games and the like for the actual claiming itself. They didn't hide anything, but they tried not to draw attention to it either. Jaden, however, had been particularly and loudly vocal in his appreciation of getting his Alpha's knot for the first time. For the first time, John was worried about having Joy here. Sam would also, likely, be similarly vocally appreciative. 

"Do you think I would ever do anything that would hurt your Uncle Sammy?"

"Uh-uh," she shook her head solemnly. "You love Uncle Sammy."

"That's right, I love him, just like I love your Mommy."

Dean finally caught up with them, "I'm sorry, I don't know how she slipped away from me. C'mon, Dolly. We gotta go get to the pavilion."

"She just needed to be sure I wasn't going to hurt her Uncle Sammy," John said, setting her down on the ground, then putting her hand into Dean's.

"You won't, will you?"

"I learned my lesson long ago. I can't."

"Good enough," Dean said. "C'mon, Dolly. Let's get you to Rory who's going to watch you for a while."

Then Dean walked away, one hand holding on to their daughter, one hand pressed to the small of his back. The sky continued to lighten and started to glow orange just over the mountains to the east. Everything was suddenly cast into the same pink light that he remembered from five years ago. Dawn, the starting of things, new beginnings. Just ahead of him, Sam happened to look back at him the same time he looked up, and Sam cracked on of his rare smiles, one of the one's that lit up not just his whole, usually solemn face, but the whole room he was in usually. The smile that turned his face from just pretty, to the most beautiful thing that John had ever seen, that made John forget the time he'd nearly lost Sam to greediness and carelessness. Made him forget their headbutting about hunting a couple of weeks before. 

Then someone gave Sam a little tap on the shoulder and he took off running. John followed, fast as he could, though he had no hope of catching up with Sam until Sam decided he was damn well ready to be caught. Sam's legs were longer, he was young, and he kept himself in much better shape. John, in the years since moving to Mount Pleasant, had let his physical conditioning slip, almost purposefully, as if saying to himself that he would never hunt again, though mostly just because he was busy. He had a business to run and a family, and the Men of Letters initiations and study. 

Sam disappeared into the woods quickly, more swift on his feet than John even imagined, but John didn't worry much. Sam knew that the whole point was to be caught and when it was time, he'd allow it. John set off at a steady pace, one he could keep up for a while, on the path that would take him to the pine grove used for summer claimings. He saw or heard no sign of Sam ahead of him on the path, even once he'd rounded the pine grove the long way around. Then suddenly, there was a sound in the undergrowth, just to his left, and before he could react, something burst forth and tackled him, taking him to the ground, landing him in a pile of pine needles. Old reactions died hard and he automatically tried to roll as he landed, tried to land a punch even as he was still falling, even though his legs were impossibly tangled in a another set of legs. He saw a flash of white that resolved itself into a person as they landed together. Thank God his fist didn't make contact, he thought, as he came to understand what had happened. 

"Sam?"

"Gotcha," Sam said, even as he was leaning in for a kiss.

"Supposed to be the other way around," John said, just before their lips made contact and he couldn't think for a while, just knew that Sam was there, demanding things, demanding that John kiss him back every bit as fiercely as he was giving that kiss, demanding that he pay attention to nothing else at this moment. John was able to break away just long enough to say, "I'm supposed to catch you."

"I just wanted a moment to ourselves," Sam said, as they caught their breath after several more long minutes of kissing, of hardly noticing that they were tussling on dirt and pine needles and sticks, of hardly noticing the cold. John's heart thumped hard in his chest, but wasn't because of the running or the kissing. It was just Sam, his gorgeous, brilliant, contrary, long-legged coltish boy, almost a man, who'd agreed, finally, to become his, after all this time. 

"We should go," Sam said. "They'll be looking for us in a moment. I'll run slower. Let you catch me."

"No, let's head up to the pavilion together," John said. 

"That's not real traditional," Sam said. 

"Nor is you tackling me," John said. "And we're not traditional, you and me, and I don't give a damn what people think of that."

Sam might have been swifter on his feet, but John still had muscle and Alpha strength on his side. Though he'd allowed Sam to stay sprawled all over him, he now rolled Sam over onto his back, lifted Sam's wrists over his head and pinned him into place. Sam struggled against him, just testing his strength, because he was smiling hugely still. John released him and stood up, realizing he was freezing. He reached down to pull Sam up after him. 

"Why couldn't you have decided you want to marry me over the summer?" John said to him as they set off down the path together. He draped an arm around Sam's back. Not over his shoulder, not any more. They were of almost equal height now, but it was Sam who was just that bit taller. 

"Because it just seems like the right time of year for a wedding," Sam said. 

 

***

As they walked hand in hand into the pavilion together and there was a lot of fluttering noise from the crowd that gathered for them. It was a bigger crowd than had gathered for Dean's claiming, but they'd been in town only a month or so at that point. They'd been living in Mount Pleasant for years now and they knew people. They had friends. If nothing else, Sam was a bit of a curiousity, not quite the tallest man in town, but definitely the tallest non-Alpha man and still only a teenager. 

They walked down the aisle, past neighbors and people Sam knew from high school, towards the platform. As expected, Dean and Vern were waiting up front, for the challenges, but Sam hadn't expected that Bobby would be with them, but it was right, fitting. Behind them was the granite plinth, heaped with blankets. In a few moments, he'd be naked on it, his Daddy plowing into him. Taking him. Claiming him. Owning him. His heart pounded, no longer in his chest, but his throat. He heard only white noise, that's what it felt like. Verna and Dean were talking to Daddy and Daddy was answering back, but Sam couldn't concentrate on that, couldn't hear any of that. 

Because the demon was right, there was part of Sam that wanted John to make him his bitch. Like all the best lies, the demon's were studded with bits of the truth. He wanted to be laid out and filled up. He wanted that easy surrender, the giving up and giving in. He looked at Daddy next to him and realized, it was okay to want that, because the man could be trusted not to accept that surrender, not for more than a few hours in bed, but that he'd give Sam back to himself again and again. Suddenly, Sam couldn't bear the feeling, couldn't stand the feeling of everyone looking at him. He felt exposed and oddly shy for the first time in his life. He just wanted to be alone with John, not in front of everyone. He wrapped his arms around Daddy and buried his face in Daddy's chest.

Daddy stopped in the middle of saying something and asked, "You okay, Baby?"

"Yeah, I just want to do this thing," Sam said. "I want you."

"I'm satisfied," Dean said, from a few feet away.

"You'll do for him, John Winchester," Verna said.

"I got some challenges for the boy, just a few questions," Bobby said. 

Sam forced himself to look to Bobby, wrenched himself out of John's arms and stood tall before Bobby. This wasn't done. The challenges were only ever asked of the Alpha. He was the one who had to prove himself worthy. No one stopped Bobby though, so when Sam nodded, he asked, "Are you sure you're doing the right thing, Sam?"

"No, but I've never wanted anything more or for longer," Sam said. 

"You going to be good to my old friend?" Bobby asked. 

"As good as I can be," Sam said. That was part of his life plans, why he wanted to go to school, so he could have a career, because he didn't want John to have to be like Vern, working with gnarled hands until he couldn't anymore, until he was old and shriveled. Sam had plans to earn enough to support his whole family, including Dean and his kids, including a retirement for John sooner than later. 

"Is this going to make you happy?" Bobby asked. 

"Yeah," Sam said, because he couldn't think of any other answer to that question than yes. A resounding, joyful, yes. "Oh, yeah."

"Well, I think you're man enough to know your own mind, Sam," Bobby said. "So, go on, finish getting hitched."

Tommie, the grounds master, the woman who ran the weddings here spoke up, "Three challenges, to, uh, each of them have been asked and answered. Are you you three satisfied with the answers that have been given? Will you allow Sam Campbell to be claimed by this man?"

"We will," Verna, Dean and Bobby said as one. 

"Sam," Tommie said to him. "Is it your intention to be claimed by this man today? Do you come to these grounds, freely and joyfully?"

"I do," Sam said. "Yes, Hell yes."

So the grounds master went right on to the community challenge and said, "If there is anyone here now who knows of any impediment to this man claiming this Omega as his own, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

No one said anything. Sam could hear the sounds of children playing, not far away, the sound of the wind, people in the crowd moving and breathing, but no objections. 

Tommie addressed herself to John, asking, "Is it your intention to claim Sam Campbell for your own? To love, cherish and honor him for all the days of your life? To make of him a wife and mother to children? To tie your souls together just as your bodies will be tied together today."

"It is."

"Then by the power invested in me by the town of Mount Pleasant and the State of Utah, I pronounce Sam Campbell claimed and bonded by you and to you. May no man render asunder what is bound together here today. You may now claim your Omega."

For a moment, Sam thought that John just might and lift and carry him the few feet to the claiming platform. He'd done that to Dean, even though Dean was nearly as tall as he was, bulky with his pregnancy at the time. His strong arms could definitely still lift and carry Sam just that short distance. He didn't though. He first leaned in close, put one of his hands on the back of Sam's neck and pulled Sam gently into a kiss. Not a fierce, possessive kiss, but a gentle touch of the lips, lifting his other hand to stroke Sam's jawline and cup his chin. 

When John released his mouth, he said, "I love you. Let's go lie down together."

Something that had been itching in Sam's mind, ever since the demon, perhaps even a lot, lot longer, came to the forefront of Sam's mind, couldn't be made silent. But he didn't want anyone else to really know this, except to the one other person it mattered to. 

"Daddy," he whispered to John. "Can you take me like I'm your bitch? But then let me go when you're done?"

"I can do that," John said. Then he swept Sam off his feet suddenly. For a brief second, Sam felt the illusion that he was small again, that he was twelve, being carried off to bed by his Daddy, not to be made love to, but to be tucked in. Then the illusion was over and luckily, the trip to the claiming platform was brief, because he was aware of just how long his limbs overflowed his Daddy's arms, how ungainly he was. And for the moment, he didn't feel desirable at all, because he was so huge, but there was also no doubt just desired he was, from the way that his Daddy gripped him tight. It was in the way he looked at Sam, as if he something he wanted to swallow up whole. As Sam was swept off his feet, he'd felt his Daddy's erection, already full and hard. 

Daddy dropped him onto the claiming platform and grabbed the neck of Sam's white t-shirt. He ripped and it came apart, then Daddy pushed him flat onto his back. A moment later, the thin white pants he'd been wearing came apart under Daddy's hands and he was naked, completely bare, then Daddy was as well, his erection bobbing as he joined Sam on the platform again.

"The chaplet, Baby, you have to throw it," Daddy said, so Sam ripped the itchy thing off his head and tossed it behind him, not even caring where it landed. He'd thrown wildly and it landed far away from the gathered crowd of young Omegas, each of them trying for it. Instead, it went towards Bobby, who batted it away, and then, Natty Karr, one of the last ten Omegas in Sam's class at school dove for it and got it before it touched the ground. 

In the background, Sam could hear Bobby telling someone, probably Rufus, "Now, don't you go getting any ideas. I did not catch that thing."

But he didn't have long to wonder just what going on with Bobby and Rufus, because Daddy was pushing him over, trapping Sam's wrists over his head in a tight, almost punishing grip. Then Daddy was between his legs, insistent, pushing forward into Sam without any further foreplay or any kind of specific invitation. 

"I think you've been needing this for a long time," Daddy said, as his cock breached Sam. 

Sam loved that moment, the time where they first became one, where Daddy would enter him. Usually, Daddy would draw it out, press forward slowly, make the one motion last for seconds and seconds before he bottomed out. This time though, his thrust was fast, hard, even brutal, and Sam almost yelped, not in pain, but surprise. Though it was sudden, Sam hadn't needed any preparation. He was wet already; he was hard, his erection and balls drawn up tight to his belly, out of the way. In a way, he'd been waiting and ready for this moment for five years. In a way, he wasn't ready yet and he never would be. For a long time, he was aware of nothing but the fierce pounding of his Daddy's body against him, of the slide of Daddy's cock into and out of him, rubbing him in all the right ways that made him gasp and shudder, of the way that his legs just seemed to spread naturally, to open for this Alpha. 

Then Daddy was talking, muttering at him as he fucked Sam, "Gonna breed you, Bitch. Gonna fill you with my come. You need that, don't you? You love my come. Needed to fill you up for so long."

All Sam could say was, "Yeah." 

Daddy kept up the talk as he pounded into Sam, "Gonna breed my bitch, put my baby into you. Make you my bitch in bed at least."

"Alpha," Sam whispered. 

His thrusting grew harder, faster, more erratic and as it did, Sam felt himself draw up, all awareness seeming to shift into an even tighter focus, where all he could feel was his Daddy's cock banging against some inner sensitive spot, then then blew up, blossomed, so that his whole body shook and it was like fire snapping up and down his spine, throughout his whole body. Then it was done, released, and he could breathe again, just in time to feel his Alpha jerk in one final spasm. There was the warmth and wetness of come inside him, then the swelling. 

Sam was more or less ready for the next part. Dean had tried to explain how it felt, like there was fist inside of him grabbing and squeezing his Alpha's knot, keeping him in. Dean hadn't managed to convey that it felt like that fist was squeezing with every bit of possible effort, with all the strength had in his body. It wasn't that it hurt so much, but Sam couldn't stop himself from crying out.

Then his Alpha, his Daddy, lifted himself up a little, just onto his elbows, so that they could both breathe. 

"Mine," he said, breathily. "All mine."

"Yes," Sam agreed. "Yours."

 

***

Epilogue

 

His baby finally slipped off his breast, asleep at last. Sam had had two things he had to do today and he'd really only gotten to one of them. The first, most important thing had come before everything else in his priorities- taking care of his infant son. Robert was only eight weeks old and pretty much still at the eat sleep poop stage of development. Not Sam's favorite age, but at least his needs were easy to anticipate and meet. The squalling cries he might make were generally one of about five or six things he needed, mostly either new diaper, a boob in his mouth or just general reassurance that Mom was near. Robert, so far, had been an easy baby, generally quiet, slept a lot, but when he was awake, he tended to look around him with an easy, but solemn look, like he was some kind of old soul and he'd been through this all already. He was supposed to be Bobby, but then as Sam had gotten to know his baby, he didn't really seem like a Bobbie at all. 

He slipped Robert into the portable bassinet on the floor next to him and got back to his books. He had a lot of studying to get through before Dean got home with the rest of the ravening horde that was their family. Only seven kids total, between them, which was small compared to a lot of families around them, but it seemed huge to Sam. Three of them were his, the other four Dean's. Dean still talked about attempting one more kid, but Sam was done. He'd had them tie his tubes while they were cutting Robert out of him. Not that he had Dean's hip problem. His other two had been delivered naturally, but Robert had been in a transverse lie and just would not be shifted into a position he could be delivered naturally. It worked out. Three babies in nine years had been just right for him and now he didn't have to worry about any unexpected ones. He was busy enough now.

Sam started to button up his shirt again. He paused for a moment just at breast level, to spare a look at his claiming mark. He'd been tattooed, right above his breasts, not that he'd had breasts when it had been put on him, the day after he'd been claimed. It was an anatomically correct heart. In a circle around the heart was the text, "My heart belongs to Daddy." Written over the heart were the words, "Property of John Winchester." He still smiled, all these years later when he looked at it. Dean preferred his bite scar, but Sam loved the colorful tattoo. It could be hidden with a buttoned shirt collar when he wanted strangers to take him more seriously, for when he wanted, not to pass for a Beta, but to give the impression that he was trying to pass as a Beta. Other times, he could show it off easily, framed in the neck of a v-neck t-shirt. . 

Just as he settled into his studies, one of the cell phones he had laid out in front of him rang. It was Bobby's hotline, given to him for just the week, because even Bobby needed a week off every now and then. Thankfully, it wasn't one of the others. He hated having to pose as some ASAC from the FBI or as a U. S. Marshall, not that it didn't come easily enough to him. It's just that Robert had this knack for waking screaming the instant someone called. Sam checked the caller ID. It was Garth, this promising young hunter. He was good, but still in need of a lot of, call it guidance. Sometimes, he was amazing; sometimes it seemed like he couldn't find his ass with his own hands and a map. Sam had wondered more than once how he was still alive. Garth had gotten into hunting when his cousin had gone vengeful spirit on him. 

Sam picked up the phone, listened to the panicked Garth explain the problem. Then Sam said, "It definitely sounds like a witch. You need to look for a hex bag. It'll be well hidden. It might even be a small token like a coin, probably a funny old coin. Destroy it, then find your witch. You know you'll probably need to, uh, deal with her. They don't stop casting spells just 'cause you ask them nicely. You'll be fine, Garth."

"Found it! A medieval German Weisspfennig, nice," Garth said, then there was a strangled sounding scream from the other end of the line, the sound of the phone being dropped and then a loud burst of gunfire. 

"I got it. Thanks, Sam," Garth said after he picked up the phone again. "I owe you one."

"Don't forget, get the witch too," Sam said and hung up on him, before his earnest puppy dog voice would say something like, 'will do.'

Finally, Sam was able to get back to studying and got in a good twenty minutes before his Daddy, home early from the garage, stalked up quietly behind him. Sam gave no signs that he noticed, but just before Daddy was about to pounce, moving in for a kiss, or possibly more, Sam said, "Shhh, I just got Robert to sleep."

Daddy said, in a hushed tone, as he wrapped his arms gently around Sam, "He sleeps like a rock and you know it."

"Yeah, except for when I need to study," Sam said, indicating the books on the table and trying to wriggle out of John's grasp. 

"I thought the bar exam wasn't for another three months," John said, nuzzling at Sam's neck, unbuttoning Sam's shirt. "The man who aced law school shouldn't be worried about a simple test."

"I aced law school because I studied my ass off," Sam said, remembering those long, hard years where he'd felt like he was split into so many small slivers of attention and time, where every waking moment had been accounted for in some way, where Dean had done so much of the child rearing that his first two kids, Jack and Abe, still called him Uncle Sammy a lot of the time, rather than Mom. They knew he was their mother, but Dean always was, and always would be Mommy to all of the kids. 

"And I'll need every bit of time between now and then that I can get a bit of studying in. You know more than half the lawyers that take it don't pass the first time."

"You will do fine," John said. "Better than fine. Dean and the other kids gone?"

"Some kind of activity," Sam said. "Aikido or ballet or soccer maybe? I don't know."

He was busy. He had a new baby. Some things inevitably fell by the wayside. Unfortunately, keeping track of everything the kids did was one of those things. Dean knew though. Dean kept it straight. Dean was there for every soccer game and ballet practice.

He kept nuzzling and unbuttoning, until Sam finally figured out what he was aiming for and he got a mouth on a nipple and had taken one long, hard pull before Sam could say anything. "You have Dean for that," Sam protested. "He likes it."

It wasn't that it didn't feel good, of course, but it also felt weird to Sam. He'd never out and out forbidden his tits to Daddy, but it just felt like they'd belonged to his babies when he was nursing them and that it wasn't quite right to make his babies share. And to Sam, it seemed like it was something that Dean and Daddy did, their special thing. Dean's last baby was five and long weaned, but tits kept putting out milk so long as someone was sucking it out, and they didn't care if it was a baby or an Alpha, taking what he saw as his.

"Dean's not here," John pointed out. "I want you, Baby. It's been too long."

They'd put off having sex again after Robert had been born. Sam's c-section scar hadn't been healing well. He hadn't felt himself, felt flabby and weak, hadn't had the time to go out and exercise and do something about that. But John was asking so intensely, with such desire in his voice that Sam knew he was going to say yes. The scar was still red and ugly, but at least he was healed up, no more of almost infection that had bothered him for weeks. And John had probably come home early from the garage with just this in mind. Sam wasn't about to tell the man who'd loved him so long, 'no.'

"Okay," Sam said. "But mouth off my breasts. I don't want them empty in case Robert wakes up sooner rather than later. And I won't be your bitch, not this time."

 

"No?" 

"No, just Sam. Tired, haven't taken a shower in three days, distracted Sam."

"I wouldn't have you any other way," John said, sticking his face, not into Sam's chest, but his neck, kissing it lightly. He did open the buttons of Sam's shirt, exposing the tattoo that marked Sam as his and touched it. 

"Yeah, I'm yours," Sam said, happily, then there was a whimper from the bassinet, that grew steadily into a wail. As Sam moved towards the bassinet he asked, "Raincheck?"

"Tonight?"

"Yeah, tonight."


End file.
